


Donne and Done

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, PTSD, Pregnancy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Everyone is recovering from Evie's rescue and the confirmation that someone out there wants to recreate the serum. Steve and Darcy have to face the reality of threats to their unborn child. Tony has to come to terms with the precarious position that he and Pepper have put their family in. Evelyn has to move past her abduction and all the sins she is capable of. Barnes must decide how to treat someone who has been taken and used by his enemy, and how to deal with his own ongoing guilt over the rise of HYDRA.They all need to remember that no man is an island.Takes place 7/30/17- 8/15/17





	1. Magical Mystery Tour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattabaker (katttewks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katttewks/gifts), [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah/gifts), [biblioworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblioworm/gifts), [firedanceswaterflows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedanceswaterflows/gifts), [lafemmequirit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lafemmequirit).



> I gifted this to those who requested more Bucky/Evie and how that relationship evolved. This is the beginning of that evolution. It starts in a pretty bad place, but how could it not with these two? And you know it gets better by The Fight Was Fixed. 
> 
> This takes place directly after Accommodations.

**July 30, 2017**

 

One last heave and Evie finally leaned back, collapsing into the soft linens on the hospital bed. Bridget, the night nurse, carried away the basin with a soothing sound. It was meant to be soothing. Evie had made a similar noise herself hundreds of times. In this case, she didn’t feel soothed. She felt irritated. On edge and anxious. Her stomach ached from vomiting. Her skin felt alternately clammy and too warm. She had been awake for hours, her first procedure with the cradle complete, with a pounding headache and an inability to go back to sleep. Her brain was working, churning, following trains of thought that diverged from each other and tugged her attention, pulling soft, pink tissue folds apart and twisting them around inside her skull.

 _This is just the beginning_ , she thought.

_Ellos sabrán que estoy aquí. Tengo que irme._

Her fingers were tapping on the edge of the bed. Morse code for the questions Sodhi had asked her. Banner’s research. _Longlongshort. Longshort. Short-_

If she applied what she had learned from the Sergeant’s samples to the analysis of Darcy’s baby’s bloodwork-

“Bridget,” she croaked. The abuse to the inner tissues of her throat had been mostly repaired by the cradle, but her debriefing had worn out her voice. The nurse leaned out of the bathroom, waiting patiently for a request. Words were pushing against the back of her tongue, eager to roll out. Evie grit her teeth. “Lock down my room when you leave. No one inside unless it is cleared with Natasha Romanoff.”

If the nurse found the request strange, she didn’t let on.

Evie knew what was coming. She had seen withdrawal before and the aching tremors in her abdominal muscles assured her that she had already experienced the first stage. It would get worse before it got better.

If it got better.

 

***

 

Sodhi was leaning down over her. His sweater was the color of piss and his mouth was smiling widely. Too widely. She could see molars – more than any human being should have. Could have. Did have.

“Look again, Dr. Vivas. Tell me how to correct this issue. Tell me.” He stepped back, still smiling, and waved his arm. The wall of the lab had been expanded, torn down, revealing a huge chamber and a darkened audience. “Share your insights. Tell us.”

She shook her head no, but her mouth was moving. “It was a problem of sample collection error. Simple to correct, really.”

_No. No. No._

“Don’t be scared, _nieta_.” A soft hand that smelled like Burberry Brit with manicured pink nails straightened her gown and smoothed dark blonde barrel curls over her shoulders. “Your speech is perfect. You will sound smart and everyone will know you are a Vivas.”

“If that’s what she wanted, she should have put some basketball hoops through her ears,” Eddie said out of the side of his mouth. “And dress a little sluttier.” Sara smacked the back of his head, knocking her own mortar board sideways. And making her earrings swing.

“You look gorgeous, Evie,” Lupe promised, making a face at their mutual cousin. “Eddie’s just jealous. He can’t even count to 4.0.”

“You know I was accepted to the Academy, right?” With all the airs of a twenty-year old boy he looked down his nose at her. “I’m gonna write you a ticket for every time you ticked me off.”

Lupe’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, you _estúpido, perezoso, olfateando la falda_ -”

“Children!” _Abuela_ pulled Evie back against her chest. Even in flats, she had five inches on her grandmother. “Go find good seats and stop bothering your cousin. She needs to get ready.”

“ _Estoy muy orgullosa de ti, hija de mi corazón_ ,” _Abuela_ whispered. “ _Te sacaremos de esa ropa sudada_.”

Evie blinked, watching as her grandmother’s face smoothed and slid into different features surrounded by a red halo.

“ _Lean forward, please.”_

A warm, wet sponge ran across her back and Evie could feel the layers of itchy dried sweat go with it. She moaned. Her eyes closed again and the sheets felt suddenly rough, scraping along her skin and leaving splinters behind.

“You have given us the future.” Sodhi began clapping. The audience clapped too, the sound beating against her ears like a symphony of drums being pushed down an elevator shaft. _No. No. No._

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t!”

“Your work is a gift to mankind.”

Whiteboards, covered with her handwriting, were rolled onto the stage. Formula and theories and notes blurring and running together and over all of it, written in huge, red letters and outlined with a star: Rip. It. Out.

“ _Hold her.”_

“ _I don’t want to hurt her.”_

“ _If she knocks the needle away again it will be worse. She already broke the cradle.”_

Evie struggled, kicking and screaming. _No. No. No_. She wouldn’t take another injection. She wouldn’t let them. If they gave her one more treatment she might tell. She would tell. The Captain. Darcy. A baby growing and ready for so much potential. So much love. Or so much hate. Pain.

Rip. It. Out.

“He didn’t want to come back to us, you know.” Sodhi’s voice, low and excited, whispering in her ear. “There is only one of him in the entire world, and you brought him to us. Your work brought him to us.”

Footsteps were approaching in the darkness. Heavy boots. Lightning flashed in the darkness. Electrical current arching too bright against the black.

“You’ll see.” A rubber guard was pressed into her mouth.

Rip. It. Out.

“ _She’s seizing!”_

“ _Bring a sedative!”_

“ _I’ve got her!”_

“What is that thing on your stomach.” Pops’ voice was deep and cold, colder than anything. Colder than a February wind on the exposed backseat of a car.

“But Lupe and Sara-”

“Lupe and Sara do not live in my house. You do. This is how it started with your mother. Breaking the rules. Acting out. I will not allow you to turn out like she did.”

No. No. No.

The audience had grown quiet, but their anticipation was louder than their sickening applause had been.

“This is your creation, Dr. Vivas. In a way, your child. One day, people will recognize you as the mother of all of this.”

Sodhi’s arm pulled aside a curtain, and there were fingers on her face. The cool, bony fingers of the assistant, his breath stale against her cheek and turning her head to look. On the exam table, legs spread wide and limp, was a heavily pregnant woman, her stomach flexing and clenching with contractions. Blood pooled on the floor. Too much, inches deep for yards around them all. Evie could feel it seeping through the fuzzy socks on her feet. Warm against her cool skin. The curtain swung to a gentle halt, exposing the patient fully. The woman’s eyes were glassy and devoid of color. Her tongue hanging out and swollen in death. A baby cried.

Rip. It. Out.

“ _She’s in distress.”_

“ _Can you give her something to slow down her heart?”_

“ _This has to pass naturally. If I give her anything else, it will interfere with the...”_

“She’s really obedient, my baby girl.” It took Evie a moment to place the voice. Lisa. Her mother. “And pretty, too. Nice skin. Nice smile.”

The door to the car was open, and it was dark outside. Much darker than it had been when Lisa had bought the ice cream. They were supposed to be going home. Supposed to be home before the bus so Pops wouldn’t know Lisa had picked her up from school. So he wouldn’t know they had desert before supper. Ice cream in February. The car was cold. Evie was wrapped in a blanket, but it smelled funny. Old and like hay left in the field too long.

The rumble of a man’s voice. Then Lisa.

“Go ahead, but you gotta pay first. She’s my baby girl.”

Street lights shining on a thin, shaking hand. Chipped nail polish. Evie tried to pull away. She was trapped, wrapped up too tightly in the thin, stinking blanket.

“ _Shhh. It’s alright. You’re safe now. We got you. Barnes and Wilson. Steve and I, we came and got you, remember? Shhh...”_

The stage was lit by only a weak spotlight, centered on a dentist’s chair. A small boy, less than three, clambered up into the seat, standing and turning around before sliding down to sit the right way. His skinny legs stuck straight out over the edge, his brown hair falling into his eyes. Soft red baby lips contrasted with the hardened gaze from blue eyes. A tiny hand reached up to brush back a thick lock, revealing metal plates welded to his temples, wires hanging out and down. Sparks sizzled when the ends touched. Around a rubber mouthpiece he spoke,

“Rip. It. Out.”

Evie woke up screaming.

 

 

_*Ellos sabrán que estoy aquí. Tengo que irme. - They’ll know I’m here. I have to leave._

_Nieta – granddaughter_

_estúpido, perezoso, olfateando la falda – stupid, lazy, skirt-sniffing_

_Estoy muy orgullosa de ti, hija de mi corazón. Te sacaremos de esa ropa sudada. - I am so proud of you, child of my heart. We’ll get you out of those sweaty clothes._


	2. The Thing Under the Stairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - but thank you all for your comments and kudos! More Tony - because you know how I feel about Tony - and more Evie/Bucky on the way.

**July 30, 2017**

 

Tony watched on the screen as Evie threw herself out of bed again. Cho was there this time, speaking softly and waiting out of arms’ reach until she was acknowledged. The infirmary nurses had learned the hard way not to try to restrain their newest patient. Even Natasha had come away from those tussles with bruises and scrapes. A bite mark.

_A half-dressed, hot Latina and an even hotter redhead wrestling on the floor,_ Tony thought, disgusted with himself and focusing on that instead of honest fear and helplessness, _and I can’t get the least amount excited about it._ The sound was on low volume, but he could hear Vivas crying and babbling, ‘No, No, No!’.

The redhead in question sauntered into his workshop then, before he could shut off the security feed.

“That is an invasion of privacy, Tony.”

“Is it? Is it really? Or is it a security concern? I think it is. This is one of those situations, those, those,” he snapped his fingers and reached for a project on his table, not caring what but only wanting to occupy his hands so she wouldn’t see any hint of a tremor of the fear that was still plaguing him, “for the greater good situations. Yes. I’m sure that’s it. As the owner of this Tower-”

“Co-owner,” she interrupted, taking a seat as if he had invited her to stay and chat. Which he definitely hadn’t. He didn’t think. He definitely hadn’t _thought_ it – which meant he hadn’t _said_ it either.

“Co-owner of this Tower I am responsible for the safety of my tenants. Including those who would accidentally do harm to themselves or others. Especially my people. Specifically. My people specifically. And since Vivas is both one of my people and most likely bring harm to one of my people I-”

“I put my money on Pepper in a fight.” Natasha was waiting patiently, hands folded on the workbench.

“Of course you would, you’re not stupid. But security still-”

“I didn’t realize you felt so proprietary about Dr. Vivas.”

“She does work for me. Her security-”

“Security isn’t your job. What does this have to do with Development?”

Tony narrowed his eyes. He knew she was trying to play him. Natasha was always trying to play everyone. He just couldn’t figure out _why_. He would though. He would study her and throw around verbal chain links and other fencing terms until his enormous intellect broke everything down and solved the mystery and then she would cave to-

“Are you trying to pass her off on Barnes? Because he has a thing for her?”

“Who said that?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “No one. Everyone with eyes and the observational powers of a drunk squirrel could see he’s interested but we all have more self-preservation than said squirrel so keep our goddamn mouths shut. Regardless, she is not in a place for that right now.” He gestured to the image, where Vivas could be heard quietly denying Cho even as she accepted help back into bed. “In fact, I insist that you cease...whatever this is. Vivas needs space. And time. And nice...I don’t know. Shoes and spa treatments and jewelry and whatever. Therapy. And work. Lots of work with a limited clientele so she doesn’t get overtaxed but can still feel joy in her calling as a baby-helping-making-person. But not in a sexual way. Yes, that is what she needs. Not Ginger Janus trying to set up a blind date for the Comeback Comrade. So you,” he pointed at her, only then realizing what he had picked up was a less than intimidating socket wrench made of melted crayons. An excellent art project, good use of color and texture and, of course, to scale. Overall deserving of a private show in SoHo which Pepper had expressly forbidden, _spoilsport_ , but intimidating it was not.

“You,” he started again, “can keep your machinations to yourself.”

“Shut it off, Tony.”

Natasha hadn’t moved. She hadn’t so much as twitched a facial muscle. She spoke in the same light tone. Tony knew she was deadly serious. He answered in kind.

“The Avengers – all of us in one way or another – could be threatened by our enemies finding out what she knows. Why they took her. What was in those files at the base, Natalie, hmmm? Friday says they have been removed from her servers and isolated off-grid. What-”

“Widow business,” she answered. “They had no idea about Pepper. I would prefer not to say more than that, but this is not something that concerns you, Tony. I will handle it.”

He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. Or part of the truth. It was hard to imagine that HYDRA would take the one person who was capable of crippling the two most important, most powerful, members of the team for reasons unrelated to either Steve or Tony. That wasn’t conceit, that was fact.

“I will tell you if I uncover something that changes the situation. But I am asking you Tony, as a friend, please let me handle this. Give her privacy. Give us all a little privacy.”

“Huh.” Tony turned his back on Natasha and muted the security feed. That was as close as he could make himself get to giving in to her request. “About your prisoner. Some interesting things in her background. Worked at a place called the Guest House – god, could Fury be more pejorative? Puerile? Insert jokes about one-eyed snakes here? I’m sure I’ll think of more, but I’m too overcome with the absolute lack of surprise that he had an alien corpse and so – of course – kept it hidden from the entire world and the greatest mind of our generation and fucking Thor, an actual fucking alien...Wow, gee, who do we know who might know something about aliens – I don’t know. Maybe this _alien_? And, oh, yeah, he did experiments on it. With people. I mean, he did turn his own right hand man-” Tony forced a laugh, “that is never gonna get old. Turned Agent Agent into a zombie and lied about it, so why not shoot people up with space jizz? Sounds legit.”

“Legit. You sound like Darcy. And it wasn’t semen. I understand they mostly used blood and tissue samples.”

“That is not a hair you want to split with me.” Tony put on his glasses and tapped against the holographic projection to minimize Vivas and instead bring up files pilfered from the new SHIELD’s servers. They had been a challenge to crack, but time and processing power had been on his side. “Or with Agent MMMM Brainssss. He didn’t have much hair to split _before_ he died.”

“You might be surprised what a little alien jizz can do for your coiffure.”

Tony snorted. “Somebody should warn Foster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am going through comments and preparing replies. You all just slay me - so creative and excited about the same details that I am! You keep me coming back.


	3. Narrow Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to put in this to reflect on Steve and Darcy's state after Evie's rescue.

**August 2, 2017**

 

 

The morning was growing brighter outside. From the hallway behind Steve the skylight was letting a warm glow into the brownstone. Even through insulated glass and the soundproofing installed in the walls, he could hear the increase in traffic. Doors opening and closing. People talking on the sidewalk outside. It was Thursday. Darcy should be awake already and dressed for work. Steve ignored the time and pressed his face further into the curls on the top of her head.

_I could have lost them._

He shuddered once, finally letting himself think about the consequences of HYDRA taking Evie. During the weeks they had searched for her, he had focused on anger. He had ignored the sick pull in his stomach and the terrifying images that his brain conjured to use his fury, his desire to protect, and the need for a logical plan to suppress the fear. Steve knew what could have happened. He had read Bucky’s file. Forced himself to go through every photograph and grainy video recording of the torture HYDRA had put his friend through. He knew the bare bones of Natasha’s time in the Red Room – and her rare clipped, passionless descriptions were enough to let him know that she had endured things no person – no child – should ever have to even know about.

_C_ _hild_.

Another shudder tensed his muscles and Darcy shifted and murmured in her sleep. He forced himself to relax his hold. If HYDRA had discovered the truth from Evie, Steve had no doubt they would stop at nothing to get their hands on his child. Captain America’s baby. Steve ghosted his palm over Darcy’s hip to smooth across her abdomen. The swell of her belly was noticeable and firm. He had been obsessively reading since he found out about the pregnancy and between that and Evie’s exams he knew that the baby was a little above average in growth. Darcy had felt the first movements just a week ago. She had sobbed into the phone when she told him, questioning how she could do this without her doctor and friend, pleading with him to make certain Evie was alright, praying that no one knew about the baby, and berating herself for thinking of anything but Evie’s safety.

Steve understood perfectly. He liked Evie. Thought she was smart and good and slyly funny and probably perfect for his oldest friend if Buck ever got his head out of his ass. But while he had been holding the phone to his ear, trying to console his girlfriend and frantically racing up the Tower stairs toward her office, he could only think of Darcy and the little life inside her. Hoping he would get to feel it move soon too. Praying mother and child would be healthy. Pledging to tear limb from limb anyone that even thought of taking them away from him. They were his happiness. His entire life. And he would have – would still – burn down the world, _fuck everyone else_ , if that is what it took to keep them safe.

“I can hear you plotting back there,” Darcy murmured sleepily.

“Planning,” he corrected, pressing another kiss into her hair and trying to shift away from thoughts of destruction and retribution. “When one of the good guys does it, it’s called planning.”

“Only if the goals are altruistic.” She turned her head, pushing hair off of her cheek and exposing sleep-swollen lips and a small smile. Her hips pressed back against him, “I think you’re...Steve?” Darcy’s eyes opened wider and her smile turned into a concerned frown. It was rare for Steve to not be at least half-way ready to wake her up with personal attention. Her new sleeping attire of one of his shirts and nothing else was in his top eight favorite things about the pregnancy so far.

This morning, his mind was too bogged down with other concerns.

“If we hadn’t found her-”

“But you did.” Darcy pressed her smaller, cooler palm over the back of his hand, forcing him to cup the roundness of her stomach. Her blue-green eyes searched his. Dark lashes brushing across her cheeks with each blink and making him think of angel wings and candlelit shadows and soft embraces. “We’re safe. Evie’s home. I’m right here. And the Lewis-Rogers tapeworm is only in danger from my new craving for buffalo wings.”

“Too much spice,” he answered automatically. “You need to watch out for heartburn.”

“See? You are taking such good care of us. You rescued our doctor. You bought all those colorful vegetables _and_ made them taste good. You got my best friend to visit New York and keep me from freaking out this last month. You haven’t complained even a little about how low I set the air conditioning. You’ve been super gentle with my boobs. You only mentioned my gas once, and I totally saw you trying to start a load of laundry last night. Thank you for giving up on that, by the way. I can’t afford to replace any of those sweaters you were about to wash with your jeans.” Her voice dropped lower, softer, serious. “We’re good, Steve.”

He stared, trying to find any hint that she was concerned. Frightened. Second-guessing being with him and having a target painted on her and their unborn child because he was the father. He saw only conviction.

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss onto her temple. Then another to the hinge of her jaw. His shaky sigh blew a dark curl away from her ear. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“Steve...have you even met me? There isn’t anything on this earth, or in the nine realms, or anywhere else that is going to make me give up on something I want. I threw away an offer from SHIELD that included paying off my student loans so I could follow Jane Foster. Student loan debt is no joke. I fought fucking dark elves for that woman – because she is my best friend. I lived for three years in a town that has no Chinese food, Steve. I mean, can you even comprehend the level of dedication that exemplifies? Me. Living ninety minutes away from General Tso’s. That’s love.” He huffed a laugh into her hair, feeling a little of his dread and guilt melting away. “If I will do all of that for Jane, you have to realize I would do at least as much for you. Well, maybe not the Chinese food. A pregnant lady has needs.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

She was smiling at him, looking over her bare shoulder where his undershirt had slipped down to reveal creamy skin and emphasize the swell of her breast. There had been a time – not that long ago as Steve knew it – when he had only looked forward to fighting off his numerous aliments long enough to see Bucky Barnes settle down with a nice gal that would love more than just his pretty face and fancy dance steps. And who could cook, because young Steve Rogers had known he wouldn’t always be around to feed his friend and make sure Buck knew that his brains and his loyalty were more important than how well he wore a hat.

And now he had a family. His girl – _his_ – mostly naked and happy in his arms. Their baby growing inside her. All in their house, warm and well-kept and not a rat or flour weevil in sight. His best friend, more brother to him than sharing blood could have ever made them, safe and whole. And all the other people in his life that were supporting them. Steve blew out another breath, willing himself to relax. _They are safe._

“Speaking of needs that you could take care of...” Darcy let her words hang in the air as she pushed his hand further down her belly until his fingertips brushed through soft, neatly trimmed hair. Despite his heavy thoughts that morning, he continued on his own to trace silky soft skin and warm folds beginning to heat with arousal. He parted her gently and found a growing dampness.

“Darcy...” He had wanted to make a light quip, to let her ease them both back from the emotion of the last few days – the last few weeks – but even as his body was responding to Darcy pressed up against him and under his hand he could feel his throat getting tight. “I love you.” He held her gaze, watching her smile slip and feeling terrible for that, but unable to stop the way he felt.

“I love you too, Steve.” She twisted awkwardly to press a kiss to his chin. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hand, pressing him against her mound and drawing a gasp from her that was hot on his jaw. “I was scared too,” she whispered.

Steve rolled onto his back, taking Darcy with him so that they were chest to chest and mouth to mouth. She rolled her hips, trying to gain friction against his abs. He grabbed her full ass with both hands and tugged her up far enough that he could reach behind her and press two fingers against her clit. Darcy sucked in air and shivered. He traced her plump bottom lip with his tongue, nipping and kissing as he answered her,

“I’ve never been so terrified.”

She clung to him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth hard enough that their teeth clacked together. Steve didn’t care. He took everything she would give, desperate to affirm that she was alive and safe and with him. That she loved him and wanted him. That she knew he loved her. _More than anything_. His free hand smoothed up her side to her breast, lightly cupping the heavy globe. His thumb slid between them. He circled her nipple, drawing a pleased moan from Darcy. She pulled away from the kiss, gulping for air. He licked across her jaw, tasting her skin, leaving little bites and kisses down her neck. His left fingers dipped into her moisture, meeting a fresh pulse of liquid and heat, and then circled her clit again, pressing back against her hood to expose her to the slicked callouses on his fingertips. She made a sound between moan and purr. A strangled inhale of pleasure.

He breathed in the scent of her neck. Vanilla body wash and warm Darcy. “I won’t let you go. Neither of you.”

“Me either,” she gasped, bracing against his shoulders and pushing back onto his hand. “Never, never, never. Steve!”

Her cry of his name did him in, and he pulled his left hand away to grip himself. He was hard and ready for her. Steve stroked his cock, running his thumb over the head to spread his eager precum for her. He had to bite his lip at the sensation.

“Yes. Now.” He held himself steady and she sat up and slid down onto him. It was a tight fit. A combination of less foreplay than they usually had and the pelvic exercises she had been happy to do with his help. Darcy gasped. Steve bit his cheek and squeezed her ass to keep from thrusting deep. “Okay?”

“Yes, just...slow...mmm.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she rocked back. Steve forced his own eyes to stay open. To hold still and just look at her. Her dark hair was crazy, a mass of curls and bedhead that tumbled just past her shoulders and emphasized the creamy paleness of her skin. Her lips were still swollen from sleep and made redder and fuller with their kisses. Her cheeks and neck were flushed, the red prints of his bites standing out sharply. Her neck would be bruised and the thought made his cock twitch. “Oh!” Her lashes fluttered and she shivered, making her tits bounce slightly as she sank down another inch.

In the last month, she had become tender, her breasts swelling almost another cup size and her nipples becoming so sensitive that Steve had made her come more than once with nothing but light touches and gentle sucking. He lifted one perfect, round tit in his right hand, admiring the weight and the satiny texture of her skin. Below it, her waist was still narrow, but the curve of her belly was prominent in this position. The obvious swell of his baby growing inside her inspired a fierce protection in him at the same time that he could feel his own orgasm building. It was too fast, Darcy hadn’t even taken him all the way yet, but he couldn’t seem to control the tidal wave of need that had crashed over him. He held her ass tighter, keeping her from lowering any further, and slipped his other hand down her ribs, across her hip, tucking it so that she could rock against the heel of his palm.

“Steve, yes, oh!” Her movements lost rhythm, trying to press down on his dick and out into his hand at the same time. “Please, please-”

The base of his spine was tingling, a tightness coiling low in his gut that he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer. His fingers brushed against her outer lips and the sides of his dick, making him shudder and catching a rush of her liquid want.

“I need, I need, need, please-”

Steve groaned, knowing what was coming and promising himself he would finish her later. He bucked his hips hard, burying himself inside her to the sweet sound of her babbling his name. Once, twice – he didn’t make it a third time before the tide of orgasm hit him. His ears went numb, all sound deafened in a moment of perfection. Clarity. Release. Love. He watched Darcy toss her hair, noted the tiny pricks of her nails digging into his chest, traced his eyes around the perfect ‘o’ of her lips.

He lost a bit of time after that.

When he opened his eyes again, Darcy was draped across him, his cock softening inside her heat. A brown curl had fallen across his face and tickled his nose. He blew it out of the way. His fingers found her spine, tracing down the length to the top of her ass.

“Not all of us are mighty heroes with enhanced stamina,” Darcy murmured into his chest. “And pregnant ladies need a little rest between orgasms.”

“Did you-” he began, surprised.

“I think we set a record,” she replied. With a grunt she pushed against him and Steve took the hint to help her off and into the mess of sheets and blankets. “You totally get bragging rights. That might be the fastest any woman has ever gone from zero to ‘oh god’.” He rolled onto his side, his hand clasping her hip and unwilling to let her move too far away.

“You sure you’re okay? That was kinda-”

“Hot? Super hot? Binary star hot?”

Steve smiled, the guilt over his less than generous treatment of his pregnant girlfriend fading. “I was going to say rough for you.”

“Hey. I like a quickie as much as the next girl. Maybe more on account of this tapeworm and how I have to pee, like, right now.”

She moved to get up and, reluctantly, Steve let her go. He watched with an interest that never seemed to fade as all of her parts shifted and jiggled a little while she pulled off the now wrinkled t-shirt she had slept in and traded it for a robe. He was so focused he missed the first part of what she said next.

“-Jimmy, but I can save that for later. What do you think?”

Steve considered trying to bluff, but instead folded his hands behind his head. He was feeling too relaxed to bother. “I have no idea what you said.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and huffed, a smile on her lips. “We should do something nice for Evie. Nat said she would probably be released today, or first thing tomorrow. I know Tony ordered her clothes and a new phone – and probably a Cartier watch and diamond earrings or something, and Pepper arranged an open-ended ticket for Evie’s grandmother to fly out here whenever Evie is ready, but I’d like to do something for her. What do you think?”

Steve wasn’t sure what the appropriate gift was for someone who had been recently kidnapped, interrogated, and tortured. Especially considering he was part of the reason for her treatment. Guilt threatened to rise again, but Darcy’s impatient stance and the vee of bare skin down the front of her robe pushed it down. _They are safe_. He thought back to how Dr. Vivas had looked in her hospital room, waiting to debrief. Her skin had been a sickly yellow, her cheeks and shoulders sharp.

“Ma always made something for neighbors when they were having a rough time. A pot of soup or a loaf of bread or somethin’.”

“Duh. I should have thought of that. And she’s from a flyover state. What is it they have there, hot dish?”

Steve looked down his nose at her in mock seriousness. “I am not making a casserole. Something comforting, and high calorie.” He got out of bed and followed her, naked, to the bathroom. “Crumbled pork sausage,” he decided, “in a cream sauce. Cracked pepper, paprika, minced onion. Buttermilk biscuits.” Steve prepared his toothbrush while Darcy stepped into the shower. “Maybe a side of melon. Or sliced pears and peaches with a cinnamon sugar topping.”

“You should definitely make that. And probably practice first. Like this morning. Right now. Why are you still here?” She frowned at him and stuck her head under the spray. “This is a serious matter, you should be cooking, in this moment. Time is wasting here. And, oh, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I could take one for the team and taste test your first try. And if it isn’t perfect you can just keep trying and I’ll soldier through. This is for...” The rest of her words were lost in the water.

Happiness and love and relief all rolled around inside his chest making Steve feel too full and completely content at the same time. He had a hard time brushing his teeth with the wide grin on his face.


	4. Shake It

**August 2, 2017**

 

“Your vitals are evening out. How are you feeling?”

Evie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Better.” She took another deep breath. She didn’t see anyone in the room that wasn’t there. She wasn’t hearing anything but the perfectly normal sounds of a heart rate monitor and the soft hiss of air conditioning. All she could smell was disinfectant, detergent, nitrile glove powder, and a faint floral scent from Cho’s hair when she leaned forward to check the cannula. The blanket and top sheet on her bed had been neatly folded back, and Evie vaguely recalled screaming because she was tangled in it. The sense of being trapped surfaced and the monitor began beeping quicker.

Another deep breath. _In_. _Hold. Out. Hold._

“The headache is mostly gone,” Evie specified. “I can concentrate. Focus.” She looked back up to Cho who was taking notes on a StarkPad. “The pink elephants seem to be more relaxed too.”

“Har.” Cho didn’t stop writing, but she did smile. “So funny. I’ll note a return of your sense of humor in the chart.”

“I’ve been told I didn’t have that before. It may be a side effect.”

“Interesting. If this treatment causes spontaneous development of personality, we could make a fortune on the patent.”

“And if I develop more than one?” Evie was still joking, but she was reluctant to even think about those other voices that had forced their way into her head. Cold, scientific Evie. Spanish-speaking violent defender Evie. Logical, practical Pops-Evie. They had all faded as Cho’s latest injection began to work, but she was certain they were still there, lurking. She worried that her psyche had been permanently torn and the best they would ever be able to do was butterfly the parts back together.

“That depends. Do any of them have an increased sex drive?”

Evie blinked. “Not so far.”

“Damn. Female Viagra is where the money is at.” Cho tapped a few more times and then slid the narrow tablet into her coat pocket. Her lab coat was white, with an obnoxious red ‘A’ embroidered on the chest. Her scrubs were lavender. “Okay. How do you feel about getting out of here?”

Evie raised her eyebrows. “Restrictions?”

“I’d say light activity for the next 24 hours, then a gradual increase – depending on how you feel. You can shower, but even though the wounds have closed up, your neck is still deeply bruised. Careful while you wash your hair that you don’t strain those muscles. Watch your fluid intake and stay on soft, bland solids for the rest of the day. You’ll want to stay close until we get the dosage correct and manufacture some pills for you, and I strongly recommend a consultation with Tony’s in-house psychiatrist. He specializes in PTSD and captivity. And after dealing with Tony you’ll probably be a vacation for him. He won’t know what to do with a patient that follows orders.”

Evie was surprised. She had expected to be restricted to the Tower, maybe even her studio apartment or the infirmary. She had already been taken once, and now her knowledge was ten times more valuable to HYDRA or any number of other organizations. She was a liability.

The image of a little boy with brown hair and wires in his head slid through her mind, slippery and vague and quickly falling back into her subconscious. Evie shivered, listening to her heart rate and forcing herself to calm down. The idea of getting out of that bed and walking away – going anywhere else – was an attractive goal. She pulled off the cashmere blend socks that some well-meaning person had put on her cold feet and carefully laid them on the folded blanket.

“Please tell me there are some pants I can wear.”

 

***

 

Barnes had received the notice from Friday while he was running: Dr. Vivas was being released from the infirmary. He felt conflicted about that, and was aware of the hypocrisy in his thoughts. Release implied a certain level of improvement, although not necessarily a complete return to health. He was ample proof that doctors and nurses could be avoided, fooled, or intimidated into acting against their own judgment. And while Evelyn lacked the physical threat he had at his disposal, Barnes did not doubt her ability to get her way. However, the infirmary was also one of the safest locations available to her. Aside from Banner’s containment unit or actually living with an Avenger, the secure medical ward had the best protection money could buy. And Stark had a lot of money.

If she had conned her way out – well, Barnes could understand that too. He hadn’t liked hospitals the first time he visited Stevie in one, he sure as shit didn’t want to spend any time in the medic tents on the front line during the war, and the bedside manner of the HYDRA technicians left a lot to be desired. But she probably needed medical care. Evelyn had been through an ‘ordeal’, as the therapists would say. She had survived the sort of shit that most people couldn’t imagine actually happening to them, and after the post-mission debrief, Barnes felt certain she had engineered her own escape from HYDRA too. Even if the team hadn’t shown up, there was a chance she would have made it to a phone. Natalia said that her burns were from a small flash-bang she made herself. That took quick-thinking and some brass balls from a woman who had never before had her life in jeopardy. His respect for her had only increased.

So while he hoped she had been released because she was better, and he would be the last person to want to stay in a hospital bed, he also could not stop himselffrom running worst case scenarios.

A reaction or relapse from whatever drug cocktail HYDRA had pumped into her while she was alone in her apartment could prove deadly.

Panic attacks, natural reactions to what she had been through, were more likely if she was isolated. Barnes was painfully aware of that.

HYDRA could try to take her again. Tower security was good – between Barnes and Friday it was the best it could be – but no fortress was impenetrable. Especially if the cost – in lives and funds – was no object. HYDRA had spent more for slimmer chances of recreating the serum.

If they didn’t make another play for her in the Tower, then once she left. Abductions from public places were tricky, but not impossible. And without anyone to confide in where she was going and for how long and by what route, Evelyn could go missing and be hours away before anyone noticed. As evidenced by her abduction.

Barnes knew Stark would offer her a sub-dermal chip, if he hadn’t already. But that could work two ways. Any technology could be hacked, and the last thing Barnes would want in himself or someone he was protecting was a GPS signal that could only be removed with a scalpel. Not that he was protecting the Doc. Not personally, but only in the broad sense that she was a security concern and lived and worked with the Avengers. _Yeah right_ , he scowled at himself, _lie to yourself some more you schmuck._ He had found her attractive the first time he saw her, calm and competent and golden-warm while she forced Tony Stark to shut up. An angel of long legs and dry humor wrapped in heavenly soft blue layers; and on her feet shoes of pure sin. Patent leather in navy blue with a pointed toe and a heel to match. When she turned away, he had seen a stitching detail up the back like a corset; ribbon laced tightly and then wrapping around her ankle before disappearing under her slacks.

He had wondered how far up it went.

Barnes had always been a leg man. Apparently, in the twenty-first century he was a shoe man as well. Although, he never cared what Ms. Potts wore – appreciated her footwear in a strictly aesthetic sense, but didn’t take an _interest_ in it. Evelyn definitely spurred _interest_. Corset stitching he wanted to follow around her ankles with his fingers. Black and white saddle shoes with a low heel that made him think of librarians and heated whispers. Gold alligator that belonged crossed over the back of a Ecosse motorcycle. Pale pink brushed suede that would feel soft tucked behind his neck. Wedges with patterned cotton ties that made bows above her heels and brought to mind white beaches, small swimsuits, and warm blue waters.

Maybe he wasn’t a shoe man. Maybe he just liked the excuse to stare at her legs and imagine scenarios where he could touch her.

Because he certainly couldn’t here. In reality. That was a line he wasn’t going to cross – especially not with someone so important to Steve and Darcy. Someone who was brilliant and ethical and seemed like a genuinely nice person. _There’s nothin’ wrong with lookin’_. Barnes snorted to himself and nodded to the security guard at the private entrance to the Tower as he went in. _Nothin’ that confession and a few thousand Hail Mary’s won’t cure. At least temporarily._ In the meantime, he had a job to do.

“Friday,” he said once the elevator doors closed, “Did Dr. Vivas head to her apartment?”

“Yes, Sergeant. Dr. Cho has advised-”

“I don’t need to know that,” he interrupted. It was one thing to admire the woman’s form, and maybe, occasionally, set his patrol schedule to align with her arrivals and departures, it was another entirely to access her medical files.

“As the head of Yinsen Security you have the authority to-”

“I know. Just...” He wanted to ask if she seemed okay. If she was coping. If she had smiled or laughed or cried. That was too personal. “Please notify me if she leaves any of the restricted floors, and keep an active monitoring presence on anyone without at least a level three clearance that gets close enough to interact with her. Four meter perimeter.” He tried to push down his concerns. “If...I guess...if you notice she’s not feeling well, you should talk to her about it.”

“Of course.” There was a pause, then, “Security measures have been updated, Sergeant. Is Dr. Vivas restricted to the Tower?”

“Fuck no.” Barnes winced. “Sorry, Friday. Caught me by surprise – no excuse for the language.” There was no way he would ever hold someone innocent against their will. Even people who worked for HYDRA he would rather just shoot and get it over with.

“No offense was taken, Sergeant. However, may I make an inquiry?”

“Go ahead.” He watched the lights on the elevator swiftly approach his floor.

“You seem concerned for Dr. Vivas’ security, and her health. That conclusion is supported by previous actions and behaviors you have taken to ensure her safe travel and her comfort while in the Tower.”

Barnes did not squirm. It was beneath his training to squirm. He did wonder how obvious he had been that the _computer_ was aware of his interest.

“Other residents and important members of the Avengers association share these concerns, but Dr. Vivas is not benefiting from the full extent of my monitoring capability. Why is that?”

Barnes glanced down at the black silicone bracelet on his wrist. Stark had insisted on it when he joined the team, and he hadn’t objected. It could be removed at any time, but would alert Friday if he did so. More importantly, it allowed Friday to monitor his vitals, heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature even when he wasn’t wearing his tactical gear. There were cameras in his apartment too – just like in every apartment in the Tower – but they required authorization of at least two Avengers to activate. It ensured they would only be used in an emergency and not as an invasion of privacy.

“People ain’t Assets,” he said quietly. “ _Luchshe krovotochit' na sobstvennykh usloviyakh_.” He shook his head, only then noticing that the elevator had stopped on his floor and the doors were open. “You shouldn’t force them – even if it would help.” He stepped out into the corridor and made for his apartment, looking forward to a shower and clean clothes. Maybe the soap would wash out his thoughts.

“I had come to understand that such insistence, when done out of caring and without unfair inducement, is considered a hallmark of the bonds of friendship and family. Is that not true, Sergeant?”

Barnes was nearly overcome by an onslaught of memories, some sharp and smelling of slow-cooked broth and harsh cleaners while others were blurred and left a twist of fear in his gut.

_Blonde hair, matted with sweat. “’M fine. Go out and play with the other guys.” “Nah, ‘s too cold out. I’d rather read. An yer ma’s makin’ biscuits.”_

_A dry, sucking rasp of air against brittle lungs. “Don’t need medicine any more than you need a coat. Spend it on yourself, jerk.”_

_Sweltering heat. Limp bedclothes visible through a sliver of barely open door. Hushed voices. “What now? Should I apply a cool compress, or perhaps an epsom bath?” “Resign yourself, and let the boy go. I’m afraid it’s in God’s hands, Mrs. Rogers.” “My son can go when Gabriel himself comes to take him – until then, give me useful advice or show yourself out.”_

_A bony body, too thin even though a nightshirt, wool socks, and a poorly knitted sweater, shivering against him_ _under every blanket they owned_ _. “I’m sure ya can f-f-f-find someone curvier to share your bed. Go on out, I’ll be fine.” “Ain’t had heat in this place for two days, punk, and you look like you got both feet in the goddamn grave. Shut your big trap and go to sleep. And if you tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you myself.” “_ _Ya made me eat your s-s-s-soup. I’m probably already dead_.”

Barnes cleared his throat and unlocked the door.

“I suppose it is, Friday.”

 

 

* _Luchshe krovotochit' na sobstvennykh usloviyakh –_ It’s better to bleed on your own terms.


	5. Blood in the Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evie is learning how to cope with the aftereffects of her own special HYDRA treatment.
> 
> A huge thanks to biblioworm for translation services. I hate being wrong, and you make it all so, so right. ;)

**August 3, 2017**

 

_**1:46 a.m.** _

Evie rolled away from the gentle blue glow of the bedside clock and pushed her face further into her pillow. She was chilly, but she couldn’t make herself wear the thick socks she knew would help or unfold the blankets from the foot of the bed. Just the idea of them made her feel constricted. Restrained. Her entire body ached in a dull way, with flares of pain in her neck if she twisted or put pressure on it. After Cho had released her from the infirmary, she had reviewed her own chart and the innovative prescription regimen. Voluntarily, she had reduced her painkillers to nothing more than ibuprofen. She was already on an experimental treatment and coming down off of unidentified substances, she didn’t need any negative interactions on top of that. She huffed out a sigh and her throat protested.

Evie almost wished she had taken something stronger. Codeine, at least.

 

_**3:08 a.m.** _

Glass cylinders, as long as her leg and three times as big around, were suspended from the ceiling. Cables and thick tubes protruded from the tops and bottoms and snaked away across the floor of a dark room. The containers were cloudy, and cast in shadows. She couldn’t see what was inside. She didn’t want to. But she did. Dread pooled in her chest. Liquid lead weighing down her lungs and heart, dripping down her spine. Her feet were moving. Closer. She tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t look away either, something in her still curious, still eager to _know_. Her hand touched the glass and the liquid inside swirled.

A face looked back at her.

Evie woke with a scream that burned her throat and had her scrambling backwards, slamming her skull into the cushioned headboard. The blue glow of the clock was overtaken by swiftly rising lights in the apartment. They held steady at a soft level – not too bright but enough to remind her where she was.

“Dr. Vivas,” a voice spoke quietly from everywhere and nowhere and it took Evie a moment to process that it was Friday, “I apologize for the intrusion, but my passive audio sensors indicated distress in your apartment. Do you require assistance?”

Did she require assistance? Evie was breathing too quickly and a laugh was tightening under her sternum – threatening hyperventilation. Her pulse was erratic and her stomach churned with nausea.

“No,” she managed to force out. The word was high pitched and raspy. Friday remained silent. Evie took several deep breaths, forcing herself to unclench her fists. Her palms stung where her nails had bitten into the skin. _I need to get manicure_ , she thought, _I can’t do an exam like this._ Then she did laugh, a harsh release of air and tension. She certainly couldn’t see patients while she was _like this_.

“Just a dream, Friday,” Evie managed to finish. “I’ll be fine.”

“Very well, Dr. Vivas.” The lights in the apartment began to lower, leaving only a gentle glow under the kitchen cabinets and the clock on the nightstand. “Please let me know if you need anything. I have served as a sounding board many times, if you would like only to talk.”

“Thanks.” Evie settled back down again, reaching for the pillow that had fallen to the floor and wincing at the stretch in her back and side. With her eyes closed, she counted her breaths.

Four out. Hold three. Four in. Slowly, the tension in her muscles relaxed. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as sweat dried and cooled, and Evie pulled her pillow in closer, shoving her hands under it to keep them warm.

_Salí._ _P_ _rotégete a ti misma_ _. Ellos saben dónde encontrarte._

 

_**3:37 a.m.** _

Her eyes were gritty and hot.

There were forty-seven distinct shapes in the orange peel texture of the wall. Thirteen of the were improbably polygonal. The back splash in the kitchen, visible in entirety only if she rolled to the far edge of the bed, had ninety-seven whole tiles and four partial tiles. The repetition of numbers seemed significant.

_¿Cuántos guardias de seguridad hay entre el lobby y mi piso? ¿Se puede confiar en ellos? ¿Saben dónde estoy?_

Her body was exhausted. She needed sleep. Evie was cold, but she wouldn’t use the blanket. She curled onto her good side again, pushing her braid behind her, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Four out. Hold three. Four in. Hold three. Four out…

The HVAC came on with a quiet hiss and she began to calculate the pressure of air flow.

 

_**4:02 a.m.** _

_No te estás ayudando, tonta._

Evie rolled out of bed, the sudden rush of blood to her feet making her lightheaded. She traced one hand against the wall to keep from falling and made her way to the tiny kitchen. A glass of water helped her throat, but her brain was still doing somersaults, spinning around on itself and keeping her awake. She could barely grab onto one thought before another rose to the surface. She paced the apartment while she drank, counting her steps and trying to wait out the time until she was scheduled for another injection.

_Deberías ser más fuerte._

The apartment was just as she had left it. Beautifully and sparingly decorated by Tony’s people. A sweater she had forgotten on a previous trip was draped across the back of a chair. Absently Evie put it on and tucked her cold fingers into the sleeves. Tony had even thought to provide a replacement phone and laptop for her. They lay on the counter, charging. She had only opened them long enough to see that he had backed up all of her files and programs. She tried to ignore it, but the long list of missed texts and calls from her grandmother caught her eye as well. Pepper had assured her that Stark Industries had issued a cover story for her absence. Her patients and coworkers had been told she had fallen ill – cancer was implied but not explicitly stated. That would make any amount of time she was gone seem plausible. A few weeks and the tumor had been surgically removed and found not cancerous. If it had been longer - _it couldn’t have been longer, I’d be insane and HYDRA would have everything they wanted_ – intense chemotherapy would explain her absence.

Her family, however, had gotten a different story. Evie was aware she only had three people listed as emergency contacts. Eddie – because despite being a little shit while they were growing up, he was in law enforcement and that meant access to information and a relatively cool head. Sarah – because she had been Evie’s best friend since birth. And _Abuela_. She had to list her grandmother, but knowing what lies Pepper had been forced to tell, Evie was regretting it.

“ _Military action?” Evie had been shocked._

_Pepper, for once, had looked uncomfortable. “Saying that you were visiting one of our Central American facilities and that local conflict had made evac difficult was plausible and, I thought, allowed for the right amount of concern.”_

_Evie disagreed. Abuela’s numerous texts supported her incredulity._

“ _I could promise you were safe and protected by SI security, but unable to get to an airstrip or port. Intergovernmental negotiations was a believable excuse for why nothing was being released to the media. I called her personally as soon as you were back in the Tower and let her know you were safe, but being debriefed by our government. I said you would call as soon as you could.”_

Yeah. Right. Evie was going to put that call off for as long as possible. Upon arrival in her apartment she had shot off a message to Abuela, Sarah, and Eddie and let them know she was okay and planning on sleeping for a week – then promptly shut off the ringer. She wasn’t sure how to come to terms with what had happened. Explaining it, or – more likely – lying to her family about it was beyond her for the time being.

Fifty-eight steps brought her back to the sink and she carefully set down her glass.

_Pídele que verifique la seguridad._

Abruptly, she spun around and made for her closet. She was still wearing the Avengers-branded sweat pants and t-shirt Cho had provided, and now her blue sweater. It was clear, however, that she was not going to be able to sleep again. She might as well get dressed and try some yoga. Evie hoped she had left something in New York. The light turned on when she opened the door and Evie paused with her hand still on the frame. The closet was completely full. Lined up like soldiers on racks near the floor were tennis shoes, boots, high heels, sandals, and nearly every other kind of footwear she could think of. Evie looked closer at a pair of lime green running shoes, wondering who Pepper had sent to LA to pick up her things. On further inspection, she could see that they weren’t hers. They were brand new and from a line that she couldn’t have afforded even without student loan payments.

She brushed her hands across the clothes. Stacks of neatly folded sweaters sat on the shelves. Most were in colors and styles she had worn before, but all crafted from expensive cashmere or other natural fibers and with designer labels. Suit jackets, blazers, and blouses in an organized color spectrum hung on the lower rod. A taller section contained dresses, slacks, denim, long coats and a few garment bags. She pulled open a drawer and discovered shirts, active wear, and pajamas. Shallower drawers held undergarments, socks, hosiery, slips, and a small selection of jewelry. Evie usually wore a watch, fake diamond or pearl earrings, and sometimes a necklace. Provided for her were varying sizes of pearls in two colors, diamonds, and three watches. Everything looked real and far out of her price range.

In the back of her mind she was calculating the cost.

 _Te verás bien la próxima vez que intenten_ _secuestrarte_ _,_ _pero descubrirás lo difícil_ _que es sacar sangre de seda_ _._

Another voice, one she remembered too well, chimed in.

_This is guilt. Don’t let them think you blame them._

But a small part of her _did_.

Evie growled and pulled exercise clothes from a drawer. She wasn’t going to let her own mind destroy her. Even if she had to compel it into submission.

 

 

 

_*Salí. Protégete a ti misma. Ellos saben dónde encontrarte. - Get out. Protect yourself. They know where to find you._

_*¿Cuántos guardias de seguridad hay entre el lobby y mi piso? ¿Se puede confiar en ellos? ¿Saben dónde estoy? - How many security guards between the lobby and my floor? Can they be trusted? Do they know where I am?_

_*No te estás ayudando, tonta. - You aren’t helping yourself, dummy._

_*Deberías ser más fuerte. - You should be stronger._

_*Pídale que verifique la seguridad. - Ask him to check the security._

_*Te verás bien la próxima vez que intenten secuestrarte, pero descubrirás lo difícil que es sacar sangre de seda. - You’ll look good the next time they try to take you, but find out how to get blood out of silk._


	6. Crack of a Whip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barnes relearns how to deal with people who are better at taking care of others than themselves.

**August 3, 2017**

 

Barnes finished his last overhead press and let out a deep breath. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, and his muscles felt warm and loose. He planned to get in a light run before Natalia showed up at five-fifteen for their scheduled spar. It wasn’t often that he got up so early to work out – not on purpose. But Nat had requested the time to fit her schedule and Barnes still felt a tingle of instinct not to let her see any weakness. Logically, he knew that wasn’t necessary anymore. This wasn’t the Red Room and he did not have to fear a knife to his kidneys. He didn’t kid himself into thinking that she wasn’t already aware of his sleeping patterns either. Still, he had set an alarm to get to the gym in advance of their appointment and warm up. Barnes figured he could shower and go back to sleep for a few hours after they were done.

He grabbed his water and a towel, but didn’t get a chance to wipe his face before the door to the gym swung open. He tensed and training, wanted or not, took over.

_Loosen joints. Relax muscles. Prepare for the hit. Assess resources. Cotton-blend cloth, adequate tensile strength, defensive uses. Approximately eight hundred twenty milliliters of water, stainless steel container, one-hundred thirty-three Newton-meters of torque...debilitation of enemy probable._

He didn’t turn his head or change his stance, but evaluated who might enter the room, without alerting Friday, at that time of morning.

_Light step, fifty-eight kilograms. Cross trainers. Stride length indicates female. Floral scent. Light powder._

He didn’t recognize the person immediately, and so adjusted his grip on the water bottle and flipped the ends of the towel around his flesh hand to protect him if blades were drawn. Barnes casually turned away from the treadmills. Doc Vivas had slowed her approach, a frown wrinkling her forehead. Her leggings were green to match the eye-searing color of her shoes. The tight material lovingly gripped her calves and thighs until it disappeared under a sleeveless top that hung down past her butt. She was less pallid than the last time he had seen her – her face and shoulders had a light sheen of sweat – but the bruises on her neck were still an angry blue with red centers where new skin had healed over the cuts. The mark on her jaw had darkened to purple.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was rough – from sleep or her injury he couldn’t tell. “I didn’t think anyone would be down here. Do you mind?” She gestured to the treadmills.

Barnes wanted to ask what she was apologizing for. He wanted to take a closer look at her neck and check the flesh across her ribs for healing. He wanted to tell her to go the hell back to bed, because she needed sleep more than anything, but he of all people knew how sometimes sleep wouldn’t come until the body was exhausted. He shook his head in the negative and readjusted his course to the rowing machines. The position would have a wall at his back and give him a good view of the treadmills and the wide expanse of tinted glass they faced as well as the door to the hall. He studied her movement.

Cho’s cradle had done good work on Evelyn’s ankle and foot. She didn’t seem to have any hint of strain there. Her breathing was smooth, so he guessed her ribs weren’t paining her. She held her head carefully, though, as if even a gentle movement might pull something. Barnes remembered the broken parts of the cradle on the floor. Half-way through treatment for her neck, the Doc had jerked and screamed in Spanish, her eyes wild and darting around the room. Cho had handled it well, upped the meds in Evelyn’s oxygen tube and knocked her out. He’d been able to slip his arm out from her grip then and leave the infirmary for his own apartment. He hadn’t seen her since.

She set her phone on the holder and put in ear buds, flicking through music and then turning up the volume until he could hear it even across the room. She punched the treadmill up to a moderate walk and he kept time with her steps, feeling the burn in his legs and arm until Natalia came in.

The redhead raised an eyebrow at Evelyn’s back but didn’t pause in her approach to the sparring mat. Barnes stepped off his machine and took another drink of water.

“I have already warmed up,” she notified him, removing her shoes and socks and twisting through a few light stretches. The hair at the nape of her neck was sweaty from her run.

He toed off his own shoes and stripped off his socks, dropping his towel and water at the edge of the mat. “Then begin.”

The routine was easy in the beginning. Feints and blocks. Jabs and kicks that were hard enough to get attention but not enough to hurt. Barnes could feel the practiced division of his focus as Natalia began to step up the pace. Behind him, the Doc doing the same on the treadmill. _She pushes too hard, she’ll lose recovery._

“ _Otvlecheniye - eto ne vash stil'.”_

He switched to Russian as well, not that Evelyn would be able to hear them over the heavy bass and screaming lyrics from her phone. Natalia liked to speak her own language, he knew, and he humored her despite how it sometimes felt like glass in his mouth. It was an exercise in control and free will: using the tongue of his captivity by choice. He liked best to speak Russian and talk about things that HYDRA would have never allowed him.

“ _I am not distracted,_ _little fox._ ” The nickname rolled easily off his tongue, although he couldn’t actually remember using it before. To prove how focused he was, he swept his foot out to her knees, letting his metal arm whir. She ignored what she thought was a feint and jumped over his leg, catching a sharp slap of his left hand to her thigh. In combat it could have been a knife through her muscles. Or the full power of his fist might have broken her femur.

“ _Really_?” She bent and curved her body, making the fight a dance that he had always enjoyed watching. He could not avoid the lightning fast jab of fingers to his lower back – a reminder of where certain nerve clusters were located. “ _Perhaps you are just getting old and slow then, teacher_.” She hit the same spot on the opposite side of his spine, but couldn’t get away clean. He took her feet out and she rolled smoothly across the mat, coming up into a ready stance again.

“ _Who’s old_?” He growled, just to remind her that she had aged, unnaturally slowly but still aged, while he had not.

The fight became more concentrated after that. And hauntingly familiar. The patterns and moves were ones he had worked through with her many, many years ago. Steps to a dance that they had both played out countless times. Never had it ended without blood until he joined the Avengers.

Twenty minutes later they broke apart for the final time, each finding a towel and a drink. Barnes was conscious of the repetitive smack of shoes on rubber and the increased tempo of the treadmill – loud in the nearly empty gym. He scowled. Evelyn was going to fast. Pushing too hard. And he hadn’t seen her bring any water in with her.

He grabbed one of the dozens of logo stamped plastic bottles above the sink and filled it up before refilling his own.

“ _I will be out for a few days_ ,” Natalia said conversationally. She mopped up the last of the sweat on her chest and tossed the towel into a hamper. She didn’t say anything about the second water bottle, but of course she noticed.

“ _Anything I should be aware of_?” He glanced toward Evelyn, immediately regretting confirming his intentionsfor the spy. The Doc was sweating heavily, her breath uneven, as she moved at a slow jog. She needed a break. Preferably for the rest of the day.

“ _Not right now_.”

“ _Anything I would_ want _to be aware of?” He raised his eyebrow at her and she quirked a smile_.

“ _Probably a great many things. But I cannot, contrary to popular belief, read minds. Nor would I tell you if I could_.”

He snorted. “ _Be safe_.”

“ _Always...now_ ,” she said seriously. Switching back to English, she admonished him, “Keep an eye on things while I’m gone, Barnes.”

Barnes waited for her to go. Then for another thirty seconds to make certain she was gone.

“Friday,” he called out softly, eyeing the telltale signs of exhaustion in Evelyn’s uneven steps and the white pallor taking over her cheeks. “Give Dr. Vivas another sixty seconds, then gradually cut power. Let her know the gym has been booked and she’ll need to leave.” He crossed the gym and left the full water bottle and a clean towel on the table next to her machine. She never glanced down, too distracted by the city lights out the window and the blare of horns and drums in her ears.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.”

He hesitated at the doors. _Fuck it._ “And Friday, let me know if she comes down here again when I’m not here.”

“Certainly. Protocols updated. Have a pleasant day, Sergeant.”

“You too, Friday.” Barnes let the door close behind him and made his way to the stairs. _Here’s hoping today is better than yesterday_ , he thought to himself. As he had every morning for the past two thousand one hundred and sixty-six days.

 

* _Otvlecheniye - eto ne vash stil'. - Distraction is not your style._


	7. Fear Fallacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised Bucky/Evie, and we're making progress, but I needed to check in with a few other characters, too. And who doesn't need more Pepper in their life?

**August 4, 2017**

 

Pepper Potts stared at the drops of blood in the toilet and took a deep breath. It was expected. Not a surprise at all. Especially after almost two weeks of the same. It was part of the plan even. The chances that the first attempt would be successful were incredibly slim, but failure would allow them to adjust course, to learn and make new allowances and ensure that moving forward they-

Pepper leaned over the toilet and heaved. Nothing came up. Tears and spit dripped into the water and she cursed herself. Her reaction was completely out of proportion to the scope of the situation. This sort of thing happened every day. To women all over the world. Many didn’t realize what it signified – she wouldn’t know herself if Tony and Evie hadn’t been working with her for months to make something happen. She hadn’t even had to take a test – although Evie had warned that anything over-the-counter would be suspect at best given Pepper’s unique body chemistry. No test, she had just known. She was late. And tired.

And then Evie was taken.

Stress was a factor. Logically, Pepper knew that. On top of the challenges she already faced, it had simply been too much. There was no one to blame. Nothing different she could have done. It just wasn’t going to work this time. She flushed the toilet and turned on the sink, staring at her blotchy complexion in the mirror.

_Maybe it will never work. Maybe it’s not meant to._

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t told him. Knowing now would only make things worse.

“Hey, Pep,” Tony called out, muffled through the wood. The door was locked, thank god. One too many times he had startled her and she ended up with a makeup pencil to the eyeball and learned her lesson. “Junior wants waffle and fried egg sandwiches for breakfast. You joining us? Friday said you didn’t have anything pressing on your calendar.”

She splashed water on her face and drank a sip to clear her throat. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll be right out.”

“Exactly how free are-”

“Tony.” Pepper leaned over the sink and examined her hair and blouse. Everything was in place and she had managed to keep from splattering the starched button-down. “There is a child waiting for us.”

He was still talking, his voice fading as he moved away from the door, but she didn’t hear him. Pepper met her own blue eyes, pink around the edges, in the mirror. There was a child waiting for her. One who called her mom and asked her about life questions and still let Pepper hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek at night. A child that needed Pepper.

She had thought she had to have more. Not that Maria wasn’t wonderful – because she was. But Pepper had thought that the genius ten-year old with the mouth of a sailor and insecurities of a Stark was one more piece in an incomplete puzzle that was her strange and fierce family with Tony. Pepper mentally rearranged the plan with just three pieces. Plus Happy and Rhodey. And Natasha. And Darcy. And Steve. And with Steve came Sergeant Barnes, although Tony would never admit it out loud. And Vision, of course. And where Vision went Wanda seemed to appear moments in advance. The more she considered it the more people slotted together like a jigsaw. It all fit together. She still ached inside, just below her heart where she had allowed herself to hope and dream about hazel eyes – brown with the barest hint of green when the light hit them just so – staring up at her and soft baby cheeks that smelled like powder. Maria was enough. She was the perfect fit.

Pepper brushed her teeth and touched up her makeup. She grabbed a jacket from the closet and laid it over her arm, opening the door to the bedroom and resolutely turning her back on something she couldn’t have. Something she didn’t _need_.

“Put syrup on mine!” She called out to the two amateur chefs who were no doubt making a huge mess to prepare a relatively simple breakfast.

She loved Maria. She loved Tony. But underneath her smile her chest still hurt.


	8. Shackled Together Like the Improbable Cop and Thief Duo In That One Movie

**August 4, 2017**

 

“So, tell me all about it.” Darcy plopped down onto the nearest stool and rolled it across the floor to Evie’s work table. She waggled her eyebrows in the craziest way she could, encouraging the other woman. She hoped it would work. Careful prodding to Friday had revealed that only a few days after her release from the infirmary had Evie spending copious amounts of time in the gym and at her tiny research space inside Bruce’s lab. There was something wrong with her friend.

_More than the usual I’ve-been-kidnapped-by-_ _meglomanics_ _-_ _and-_ _experimented-on-and-tortured-and-all-I-got-was-this-lousy-psychosis._ Darcy paused in her internal monologue. That statement was true for a disturbing number of her friends.

Evie looked up from the holographic projection she had been working on with a frown.

“I’m sorry?” She was still pale, the bruise on her face visible even under makeup. The doctor had dressed in a coral patterned scarf that covered her from chest to earlobes and matching sleeveless top. The outfit looked good – expensive – but a little too loose and Darcy certainly didn’t need proof with her own eyes to know that the wounds on Evie’s neck were still severe. She had her sources.

“Your appointment yesterday, duh.” Darcy handed over a green tea – Friday had stated Evie wasn’t drinking caffeine yet – and rolled her eyes. “Did Dr. Braithewaite break down and sob all over you? Did she beg you to help her escape this mad house – Towering Inferno-style?”

“What?”

Darcy sipped her coffee, wondering how far she should take the distraction and ‘playing it cool’ tactic before she switched to the ‘let’s get real and share your feelings’ tactic. She had plenty of history dealing with people who had traumatic experiences which they tried desperately to bottle up. Again, a disturbing amount of history.

“Wasn’t your SI mandated therapy session yesterday afternoon? I thought you had to see someone before you could return to work. I figured for sure that Braithewaite would meet her first sane patient and bribe you to smuggle her out.”

Evie took a slow drink and stretched her back. She didn’t wince, but Darcy could see how hard she was working to keep her posture straight. That combined with the shadows under her eyes that no amount of concealer could conceal, and it was obvious the woman was exhausted.

“You know she is writing a series about PTSD. The first two installments were heralded by the medical community as groundbreaking. There are rumors about nomination for a Lasker award. Working with the Avengers and their staff has made her career, I doubt she has any desire to relocate.”

“But Tony...” Darcy nodded in encouragement and took another drink.

“Did you come here to try and get me to badmouth a patient, or was there a purpose in this visit?”

“Maybe I just wanted to say welcome back, get well soon, what would you like in your fruit basket, etcetera.”

“You already did that. You accosted me yesterday before lunch with Steve. Thank you again for the biscuits. Would he share his recipe?”

“I don’t like how you say that: accost. It sounds so...ulterior motive-y.”

Evie raised an eyebrow and continued with her drink. Darcy sighed.

“Okay, you got me. I wanted to know when you think you might be ready for appointments again. Not that I’m pushing – I would never push – I would totally push – but I’ve been feeling a lot of movement and Steve is practically out of his gourd with worry and the internet is not a safe place for pregnant ladies – did you know this? It’s all, twelve frightening things you probably didn’t know! How about preclampsia! Migraines! Check out this picture! Bam! Hamburger crotch! And now that image is stuck in my brain. Ugh. Who volunteers to have _that_ photo taken. Like, why yes my downstairs is swollen like the Mississippi River in spring, and of course you can bring in the AV equipment! For reals? In addition to this new existential-esque dread I have about potential lady bit deformities, now I have all these questions about medical photography. It’s too much for me to handle by myself.”

“You could talk to Steve. He is the father.”

“I am not showing Steve lady-business pics. One – he might be too traumatized to go down there again. Not worth it. At all. I don’t even want to think about that travesty. And two – he’s not adequately prepared, this sort of thing takes years of desensitizing internet surfing before your optic nerves can handle the truth. His poor, naive but brilliant brain couldn’t process this. He’d short out.”

Evie blinked. “I’ll see when I can work you in.”

For a moment, Darcy was bamboozled. She worried that maybe Evie did need more honesty and ripping off of emotional band aids and less diversion and normalcy. Then she saw the twitch of lips. Minuscule, but definitely in smirk territory. Darcy narrowed her eyes.

“I heard you’re seeing Pepper after lunch.”

“Pepper writes my checks.”

“Yes, but...I am so charming?”

“Watch my resolve crumble to dust before you. Yes.” Evie remained stoic. “I am undone. You have discovered my one true weakness. Charisma. No. No. The light. It burns us.” Evie drank the last of her tea, and Darcy tried not to laugh when the doctor’s stomach rumbled. “How about nine this morning?”

“Great! We can get breakfast first. I’m starving.” Darcy waited by the door while Evie reluctantly got her bag and put on a light sweater. She was walking carefully, as if she had a blister. _Or a recently broken toe, idiot,_ she told herself. Although, she would have thought the Cradle would have fixed that. She pasted on a smile when Evie faced her again. Darcy vowed to make certain she watched Evie eat an entire pastry, possibly also a parfait, and maybe arrange for something to be delivered for her lunch. “The cafe in the lobby has these amazing danishes. They’re usually out by the time I get to work, but I think Steve has been coming by on his morning run and asking them to hold some back for me. He’s such an adorable dork.”

She linked their arms and carefully tugged Evie out of the lab and toward the elevator, noting any stiff movements or tension. _When in doubt, talk it out,_ had always been Darcy’s motto. That, and _what they don’t know can definitely help them if someone awesome and super smart is arranging things for their own good even if they didn’t ask._

“Steve made me an egg sandwich for breakfast – he is taking your whole protein and nutrient rich diet recommendation uber seriously. But I could definitely go for a danish. And another coffee.”

“Decaf,” Evie interjected, and Darcy knew her friend was going to be okay. It would take time, but she would be okay.

“Easy on the mandates, Mussolini! I hear you. I _could_ go for more coffee, but I think I’ll switch to hot chocolate. That kind with the spices in it. Yum. I was digging around in the pantry the other day - you wouldn’t believe the stuff that Steve stores in there. Like he just assumes I would never have the urge to make myself some soup, or something...”

Darcy kept up a steady stream of nonsense, but she made a mental note to convince a few other people of their burning desire to watch out for Evie. James Barnes was at the top of her list. He had oodles of experience dealing with the stubborn, self-sacrificing, silent-suffering types. She just had to figure out a way to make him think it was his idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, again, for all of the fantastic comments! I love interacting with all of you and your great ideas!
> 
> And, as always, I take requests for deleted or skipped scenes that you want to read. Evie/Bucky is the last unaddressed request I have on my docket - and we're getting there. Slow. Slow. Slower. Carina.


	9. I Need Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get me, biblioworm. You really get me.
> 
> Let the bamboozling commence.

**August 4, 2017**

 

Barnes watched the recorded security footage of Darcy leaving the Doc’s office. He frowned to himself. They should discuss moving Darcy’s appointments to Ms. Potts’ private exam room or setting up something on one of the secure floors. Maybe in Banner’s lab. Although he knew Evelyn’s nurse was still on paid leave – working just a few hours a week from home to keep records current and take calls from patients – it was still risky for Darcy to walk openly into an obstetrician's office. He reassured himself that no one had been in the public corridors to see, and with her jacket and loose blouse not even a trained spy would notice a baby bump.

 _Steve should be thankful she’s got such a big chest._ He snorted to himself, _probably let_ _s_ _her know he’s grateful pretty regularly._ Her impressive curves would help disguise her belly for another month or so, but no amount of clever wardrobe decisions would keep the secret of Captain America’s baby under wraps if anyone put Darcy’s appetite – which had grown to truly disgusting levels – together with visits to a OB doctor and her live-in boyfriend who couldn’t keep his fucking hands to his own fucking self if his life depended on it. Barnes might never use Stark’s private penthouse elevator again.

Security when the media found out was going to be a circus.

Darcy looked happy enough on the footage, carrying a thermal mug on her way back to Yinsen and chomping on gum. He had done a quick sweep before the appointment – clearing the floor and the one good sight line into Evelyn’s office - in the few minutes between Friday alerting him that the Doc was heading down from the secured levels of the Tower and the elevator doors opening on the floor where she met her civilian patients. After that, he had locked out anyone who wasn’t cleared as an employee on that level. SI had received a few irritated calls asking about the unannounced ‘security test’, but no serious complaints had been lodged.

“Friday,” he waited for her acknowledgment, “keep me up to date on Dr. Vivas’ calendar. I’d prefer not to rush through checks like this again.”

“I am forwarding you both the official calendar Nurse Reiner keeps for the clinic, as well as her personnel schedule. Dr. Vivas does not always notify Mr. Reiner of VIP patients or when she simply wishes to work in her office.”

Barnes felt a twist of guilt over invading her privacy. He had the clearance, and there was a known and present threat to Evelyn’s safety, but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable. Once Darcy’s appointment had started, he had gone down to the basement range to work through his conflicting feelings. After decimating fourteen target sheets and setting a new personal best for draw time he had also resolved his problem by ignoring it. Sam would have had something to say about that, but Sam wasn’t there. And Barnes sure as shit wasn’t going to call him up and tell him about it.

“Anything outside the Tower today? Or with outside individuals?” Outside meaning, not cleared. By him, specifically. Or Natalia. Preferably him. Outside meaning not an Avenger or select persons who had a deep personal relationship with an Avenger. It was a short list. Barnes reminded himself to more thoroughly scrutinize the nurse, Kevin Reiner.

“No, Sergeant. Dr. Vivas is currently finishing up a conference call with Dr. Cho. She has a two p.m. appointment with Ms. Potts, and nothing else.”

Barnes voiced his thanks even as he sped up the footage, watching as Evelyn left her office unmolested twenty minutes after Darcy. She did not interact with anyone else until she reached Banner’s lab. For obvious reasons, it was the most secure and structurally impervious part of the Tower. Barnes moved to shut off the feed, catching a glimpse of Evelyn preparing her daily injection before the recording went to black.

He occupied himself scanning through other taped footage and reading Natalia’s most recent report on threats and intelligence. Barnes had scoffed when Darcy had offered him an office at Yinsen, but Natalia had convinced him to take it. The spy’s own office was dark more than she was there, but it was a reminder to everyone who worked for Darcy that the Avengers were real people. People who worked hard at their jobs, enjoyed their privacy, and would be extremely unhappy if Darcy’s trust were betrayed by her employees. Even through the sound dampening glass he could hear the faint clacking of typing and murmur of voices in the cube farm that made up the bulk of the Yinsen space.

Darcy called it that: cube farm. Barnes had looked up the term but the collection of desks, half-walls, tables, and armchairs only loosely resembled the pictures online. Darcy said people were the most productive when they could choose their own hours, within reason, and their preferred work environment. So Simone had an overstuffed, crushed velvet chair in a shade of blue that matched Steve’s stealth suit and several small tables of varying heights that held her coffee cup, phone, a tablet, and mouse while she typed furiously on her laptop where it was cradled in her crossed legs. Her shoes were under the chair and she worked an oddball schedule conforming to whatever events one or more members of the team needed to be present at. Clive, easily the oldest of Darcy’s employees and edging out Tony for fittest man over fifty in the Tower, stood at a bar height desk with two ultra-wide monitors and a neat stack of paper requests for Avenger assistance, complaints about demolished buildings, and disaster relief updates. He worked short hours at the office in the middle of the day while his wife was at therapy, then spent hours telecommuting once her nurse had put her to bed and left for the night. Thomas, who Barnes was beginning to like despite – or perhaps because of – his complete inability to read a room, was the only worker ensconced in chin-high movable walls. Next to the entrance to his little lair was a monitor that scrolled real-time updates from a variety of social media and news sites. He was always in the office at nine a.m., Monday through Saturday, took a two or three hour lunch which was when most of his posts seemed to go up, and then left at six. He never went out with an Avenger, but always seemed to have pictures and witty comments about their activities in public. Barnes still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole ‘Soldier is Watching’ campaign.

The memes of Steve color-shifted to blue with a hideous high-top fade made up for it.

Overall, the office Darcy had prepared for him was nice. While seated at his desk, his back was to the shared conference room wall and he could keep an eye on the Yinsen reception area and the wide patio that arched outside his sliding exterior door. If he wanted, he could walk out and around and enter Natalia’s or Darcy’s office without anyone else knowing. Only the Directors for Logistics and Public Relations had the same access, and Barnes had scoured their backgrounds so hard they squeaked.

Sitting at his dark wood desk, the live edge with a bobble head Hulk on the corner facing two guest chairs, it felt like he had a normal job. It was something similar to what he might have done after the War, if he hadn’t fallen from that train. A lot of vets went into police work or security. Only most of them, then or now, weren’t concerned with how to keep children from tweeting about Vision picking up the Barton kids from school or making sure Darcy’s driver did not allow her to talk him into unscheduled detours for ice cream or vintage records on her way home. Most of them didn’t have to plan for a Doc who might kill herself with overwork and bad habits before Nazis could kidnap her. Again.

Barnes focused on the framed art on the opposite wall. Stark’s people had delivered the blue construction specs for a staircase and wainscoting the week after the incident at the Nobel awards. There had been no note, and the images were only labeled with ‘Stark’, a sheet number, and the name of the firm that had done the design. Barnes wasn’t sure what the billionaire was trying to accomplish. Darcy thought maybe he knew Barnes was interested in architecture and design and was just trying to be nice. Her face had twisted even as she said it. She had looked like she bit into a sour lemon. There was something about the drawings, though. Barnes felt like he had seen them somewhere before.

Darcy sidled into his office before he could consider it further, bearing a tray of cold drinks and wrapped sandwiches. Barnes glanced at the time. One o’clock.

“I was making an order for Evie, and everything sounded so good I got me something. And you were working here today, and then I thought, hell with it – and just ordered in for the whole office. Pastrami on marbled rye with whole grain mustard and baby swiss.” She held out a paper wrapped sandwich. The curly edge of green lettuce poked out from the bread and his mouth began to water. He hadn’t realized he was hungry.

“I’ve got something in my desk, you didn’t haveta do do this.”

She snorted, shuffling her tray onto the edge of his desk and still waving the food over his keyboard. “What, a protein shake? Those things look like melted chalk and smell like the underside of a subway bench. Even thinking about it makes me gag. You want to do that to a pregnant lady, Jimmy? You want to make me throw up all over your office? Lose all the good nutrients and calories that are supposed to be building your little niece or nephew? I mean, I guess I can tell Steve that you hate babies. Babies and pregnant women and his happiness. I guess I could tell him that, and then call housekeeping about the barf on your carpet. Or you could just eat the damn sandwich.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a pushy broad?” He took the offering and glanced at his door, double checking that it was firmly closed and the sound dampening would keep Darcy’s voice from carrying. “And I told you not to talk about your condition in public.”

“Condition?” Darcy rolled her eyes and opened a plastic wrapped dill pickle releasing a burst of briny scent. _Gonna take hours for the smell to fade_ , he thought grumpily. “I don’t have scoliosis. And this isn’t public. It is by definition, private. As in, your private office. And you are the only person to call me a pushy broad. Most people use much more creative language. I’m a little hurt you aren’t trying harder. And also, I kind of dig the retro vibe. Pushy broad. Sounds like maybe I could run a ring of Prohibition-era hooch smugglers. Oooo, or star in a noir film. I could be both femme fatale and private dick. Innovative, and cost conscious. I like it. Let’s bang out a screenplay and send it to Hollywood. I get top billing. Obviously.”

While she talked, Darcy devoured the entire dill pickle that was as long as his hand and half-again as big around as his fist. She got halfway through a second one before he had to interrupt.

“Could you please slow down? Stevie will be pissed at me if you choke on that thing under my watch.”

“That’s what she said. Ba-dam-ching!” Darcy polished off the pickle and pulled out her own sandwich. Barnes turned his eyes to his own food so he wouldn’t have to watch her savagely tear into poor innocent deli meat.

“I sent you a memo on new verification protocols. I’d like to implement first thing next week.”

“Speaking of my tape worm’s health status-”

Barnes stopped chewing for a moment to rewind the conversation, wondering if that had actually been a topic or if Darcy was just driving the conversation over a cliff.

“-I saw Evie this morning, and she wants to do more frequent appointments.”

“This isn’t the super soldier you’re looking for,” he murmured into his pastrami, hoping she wasn’t going to share information that both he and Steve would really wish he didn’t know.

Darcy, per the usual, bulldozed through, “And I know Steve wants me to follow her advice to the letter, but she just didn’t look up to it, you know? I don’t want to be a burden or anything. And I would hate to think that I had pushed her into getting back to work, or increasing her hours before she was ready. I would spend more time with her, checking up and making sure she is recovering okay, but I’ve been so busy with this whole ‘we blew up part of Wyoming, so sorry’ thing and even though I’m not as tired anymore my hormones are insane, Jimmy. In-Sane. I jumped Steve twice this morning and cornered him in the gym locker room before I picked up our lunch from reception. I mean, sure, he’s always hard to resist – ha, hard – but I have had this craving for-”

“For the love of all that is holy, please, please don’t finish that sentence.”

“But I-”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph – just fucking no, woman. Tell me what the hell you want but for fuck’s sake don’t tell me about that.” It wasn’t that Barnes and Steve hadn’t talked about girls before. The memory was indistinct, but he knew it had happened. It was more that Darcy was not just some girl. She was Steve’s girl, in a permanent, veil and communion sort of way even if the formalities hadn’t taken place. That, and she was going to be someone’s mother. Not that mothers weren’t sexy – there was a middle-aged gal in SI Receiving that had bedroom eyes, deliciously tight slacks, and two kids in college – but there was something about the combination of Steve, a bun in the oven, and Darcy’s absolute delight in oversharing that had ruined the salacious word-play they had both had fun with before she got pregnant. Something that made him think that Darcy should be protected and cherished and respected for the new human inside her – not fucked against an elevator wall, _Steve_. Or at least they could be more covert about the elevator fucking. _Protect a lady’s reputation, for christ’s sake._

But that was his own weird new hangup, where Darcy was still his friend but also fell into an odd, nostalgia-blurred role of female mystique and the power to create life. A memory of hushed whispers and reverent kisses to hands and temples between a man and woman he couldn’t quite picture.

It sure as hell wasn’t something he wanted to get into with anyone. And he hoped like hell it went away after Darcy had the kid.

She smiled. It was a victorious thing, and Barnes knew he had been had.

“Oh, it’s not what _I_ want, Slim Jim. It’s what is best for everyone.”

Barnes bit viciously into his sandwich and kicked himself for falling right into her trap.


	10. Johannes Brahms

**August 4, 2017**

 

Evie performed the injection herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the infirmary staff to do it; they were all highly competent. It was that she had to synthesize the formula in a secure lab, and store it under heavy security. So it would have only wasted time preparing the treatment and then taking it over to medical and finding someone who wasn’t busy – it was easier to do it herself.

_And no one is here to see you sweat._

She blew out a harsh breath and withdrew the needle, feeling calmer, but knowing it couldn’t possibly be from the chemicals already. Still, her mind began to settle a bit, the trains of thought that had woken her in the middle of the night finally falling to a murmur. At least Darcy’s appointment had gone well. Evie had been worried she wouldn’t be able to concentrate, but focusing on Darcy had been easier than anticipated. Her brain seemed to relish the new information, turning over possibilities and calculating probabilities while she measured blood pressure and fetus growth. Even now, in the corner of Dr. Banner’s lab where a table and workbench had been cleared for her, one part of her mind was still turning over the question of nutrition while another followed the lyrics to the music Friday piped through the speakers. Gradually, over the next ten minutes, her body and brain seemed to come into agreement again, obeying her and allowing several hours of uninterrupted work.

A security guard delivered a boxed lunch, with a note from Darcy, but Evie only grabbed out the cardboard cup of hot chocolate and continued reviewing patient files. She didn’t want to stop to eat and waste any of the precious time her injection allowed her.

Cho’s call startled her out of a haze of research. Cho was working at an undisclosed location with a SHIELD doctor who had some experience with one of the compounds HYDRA had used. Which it turned out, was alien fluid. _Dios mio_. She hadn’t known how to process that information. Evie had been assured her identity would remain confidential and Natasha had verified that Dr. Simmons could be trusted. Thankfully, the call went quickly. They reviewed Evie’s vitals and symptoms and Cho sent over a formula for a pill form of her treatment. Evie could manufacture small batches herself and better regulate dosage and timing – even keep a few on her person in case something happened and she couldn’t get back to the lab when she needed to be medicated. Cho signed off with a promise that they were still working on determining what had been done to Evie and how to reverse it.

_If I have to live like this,_ she thought as she looked around the four walls of the lab, _at least I’ll be able to stop using needles._ Which was good news since she broke out in a cold sweat every time her skin was punctured.

Friday interrupted at twenty to two to remind her of Pepper’s appointment. Evie had just enough time to take the elevator to the penthouse, wash up, and ready the exam room.

“Good afternoon, Evie,” Pepper smiled warmly. “You are looking much better today.”

That wasn’t saying much, and Evie knew it, but she appreciated the sentiment. She only wished she could say the same. Pepper, although genuinely pleased to see her, was pinched around the eyes. Either a headache or general stress was plaguing the CEO. Neither were particularly good for conception. Or overall health.

“Thank you, Pepper. And thank you again for everything you have done for me. I know Friday relayed my message, but I can’t say how much I appreciate you taking the time to stock my toiletries and closet. It is really too much.”

“I would say nothing is too much, but I honestly don’t know what you are talking about.” Pepper stepped behind the curtain that separated the exam table from the rest of the spacious, private room.

“Uh-”

“If I may interject, Dr. Vivas,” Friday said politely. “Upon your return to the Tower, Mr. Stark requested that I order clothing and personal items for you. He curated the selections himself. Although I believe he may have intended to remain anonymous, he did not expressly instruct me to withhold this information.”

“That’s fine, Friday,” Pepper murmured. “Thank you.”

Evie fumbled with her stethoscope. She knew Tony valued her presence, she knew he was glad she was safe and under guard. It was still more thoughtful and generous than she had expected from him. Why, she wasn’t sure. The man had already provided her a rent free apartment, two offices, and increased her salary. And that was all before she had been kidnapped.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, finding it suddenly a bit tight and fighting the urge to rip off the scarf around her neck and gasp for air. “Please convey my thanks to him, Friday.”

“Certainly, Dr. Vivas.” It was quiet for a few minutes during which Pepper finished changing into the brushed cotton gown and lap drape and Evie pulled back the curtain. “Mr. Stark said to inform you that you should request whatever you need. And to please not bring anymore, and I quote, ‘knock off monstrosities’ into his Tower.”

Pepper sighed. “Noted, Friday. Please turn on privacy protocols now.” The door lock clicked quietly and the redhead met Evie gaze. “I do hope you don’t feel he overstepped.”

“No. No, of course not. It was very thoughtful. Thank you.” Evie cleared her throat again. “But we’re here about you. How have you been?”

Pepper took a deep breath, her expression calm but her eyes still tight. “I miscarried.”

Evie blinked, taking a moment to school her features into the caring professional mask that concealed her surprise. And her guilt. She should have been there. She was Pepper’s physician, the only person she trusted to help her with the most important desire in her life, and Evie hadn’t been there for her.

“Pepper, how are you feeling?” She gently clasped the redhead’s thin shoulder through her smock, feeling the warmth of her skin and an almost imperceptible tremor that faded as soon as it came.

“I am…I’m okay. This is what we thought would happen, right?”

Evie was stunned and awed by the determination and acceptance on Pepper’s face. And also concerned. Everyone dealt with loss in their own way, but it was still loss. Still mourning, grieving – even if only for a hope and not a person. No matter how soon into a pregnancy a woman miscarried, if she was aware of conception, she needed time to process and figure out how to move on. Evie did a quick calculation, coming up with an estimate given the date of her last appointment with Pepper – who had definitely not been pregnant at that time.

“Pepper, before we talk about what this could mean for you,” she began carefully, “I’d like to ask you a few questions. When was this?”

“Two weeks ago. Or, at least that is when I started bleeding.” Pepper described other symptoms including general fatigue. Evie noted it all down carefully.

Two weeks. Evie had been staring at stolen samples and determining how to make a super soldier. A wave of guilt – for what she had failed to do and what she might have done - nearly swamped her, making her head ache and her stomach twist. _This isn’t about you,_ she reminded herself forcefully.

“I’d like to take some blood, and we can meet again in a day or two. Your intuition may be correct. Unfortunately, in this case, we often know our bodies in ways science can’t explain. But this may turn out to be something else. A side effect of the hormones. A natural result of stress. Even the result of the changes we have made to your diet and exercise regimen. We can take a deep breath and wait another day for results, and then we can talk about what is going on with your body and how you want to move forward. Alright?”

The other woman nodded, a bit of the tension at the corners of her mouth easing. By the end of the appointment, no one but perhaps Tony himself would have been able to tell that Pepper was concerned about anything. Evie admired that even as she acknowledged that it was not healthy to smooth over physical or psychological wounds with a mask of professionalism.

_Pot_ , she snorted to herself as she straightened up the exam room after Pepper had returned to her own work, _meet kettle._

The injection was still at work in her system, so Evie resolved to head back down to Banner’s lab with Pepper’s blood sample. She could begin preliminary analysis this afternoon and leave Friday to supervise a few of the longer tests if they weren’t finished before she was ready for bed. Not that Evie was terribly eager to go back to her apartment. She had yet to manage four hours of sleep in a single sitting, and woke to nightmares as often as to her brain turning over some problem. Or several problems all at once. Staring at the wall until her eyes burned only to finally crash and find herself running through a smoky hallway, yellow-washed darkness around her and her feet slipping on wet tile was not particularly restful. Sleep deprivation was preferable to that.

She pushed the button for the lab floor, but the elevator did not move.

“Friday?”

“Dr. Vivas, there is a visitor at lobby reception asking for you. An Elena Vivas. Facial recognition matches records indicating this is your paternal grandmother. Shall I inform security you are on your way?”

Anxiety over going down to the lobby, to the wide space filled with people she didn’t know and the huge glass windows transparent to the street, shoved at the guilt she carried over not having spoken to her family. A handful of texts had been all she had felt comfortable with since she was released from the infirmary.

Surprise won out over anxiety and guilt.

“ _Abuela_? How did she...”

“Ms. Potts reserved an open-ended plane ticket for her once you were returned to the Tower, Dr. Vivas.”

Evie pushed the button for the lobby automatically, then remembered the blood sample in her hands and her bag over her arm.

“Uh...” It was rare Evie was at a loss for words, but she was overwhelmed. The last thing she had wanted was to deal with the lies and excuses she would need to keep her grandmother out of danger. Preventing her worry was impossible. “Can you take me to the lab first, Friday? And can someone escort her up to my apartment?”

“Ms. Vivas has not yet been cleared for access to the upper residential floors, Dr. Vivas. I will forward her information to Security immediately. In the meantime, may I suggest an employee lounge on level thirty seven? It is currently empty and I can reserve it for your personal use.”

“Yeah. Uh, yes.” Evie cleared her throat and wiped her hand against her slacks nervously. “Yes,” she repeated as the doors opened and she made her way to her workstation. “Please do that. Is there a coffee maker or-”

“Would you like me to place an order for you, Dr. Vivas? I can also have a selection of snacks delivered. The children seem particularly restless.”

“Children?” Evie straightened from the lab fridge where she had placed Pepper’s sample. Friday projected an image onto the nearest wall. It was the lobby, seen from a height – a security camera, Evie guessed – but still with a crisp resolution. There at the main desk was _Abuela,_ hair dyed dark and expertly curled and pulled up into a high ponytail while she gestured emphatically at the guard. Her jeans had a sparkle of bling on the back pockets and were snug around legs still shapely – even at seventy. Her sleeveless white top showed off tanned arms and drew attention to matching tennis shoes – _Abuela’s_ only concession to age had been not wearing heels on days when she traveled. The sight sent the guilt and anxiety spiking up into Evie’s chest even as she experienced a painful longing for home. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

And then she noticed the children.

“ _Puta karma_ ,” she sighed in resignation.

 

Gathered behind Abuela was her cousin, Sarah. And her cousin, Eddie. Eddie’s wife. Their three kids. The oldest was leaning against a bench, smiling winningly at a waitress busing tables at the lobby cafe. The youngest was happily making a trail of cereal on the floor that a robot vacuum was following and slurping up. The middle child was tugging on her mother’s hands and clearly whining.

 

_Fuck karma, six ways to Sunday._


	11. A Vicious and Awesome Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuela will make it all better - of at least she will try.
> 
> *Note: I made some changes and re-posted this chapter, reflecting the reactions multiple readers had to Sarah and Eddie. This should steer you into a better place.

**August 5, 2017**

 

Evie had managed to put them off until today. The kids had all been tired and crabby when they had arrived in New York, and Eddie’s wife had looked like she wanted nothing so much as a hot bath and five minutes without someone uttering, ‘ma-AHHHM’. Ignoring the knowing stare of _Abuela_ , Evie managed to only endure quick hugs and help arrange transportation to their hotel. Friday handled the reservations, thank god. And Tony Stark, Evie supposed. It was because of the salary he paid her that she could afford to put up her family at the Four Seasons where they would have better security and concierge service that would hopefully keep them out of her hair until she could think of a way to handle the situation. Unfortunately, last minute Broadway tickets, vetted child care, and landmark tours could only deter them so long.

Since she had gone to college, Evie had gained a greater appreciation for her large extended family that cared deeply about her and wanted to know everything that was going on in her life. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. But their sudden proximity just when she had something she desperately wanted to hide was reminding her of all the things she had hated about growing up within a five mile radius of twenty-two cousins, their parents, great aunts and uncles. Oh, and _Abuela_. The most loving, nosiest, wonderful, rottweiler-with-information that had ever lived wrapped up in wide-heeled ankle boots and a green top bright enough to sear a steak at thirty paces.

They were ensconced once more in the lounge on the thirty-seventh floor. Eddie’s wife and oldest son had gone on a bus tour and then to have lunch at a restaurant that featured prominently on some show the thirteen year-old loved. Sarah had offered to stay with Eddie and watch the two younger children. And interrogate Evie, of that she had no doubt. With love, but still.

 _Get in line_ , Evie thought with resignation.

As soon as the kids were settled at a table in the far corner with chicken strips and containers of milk, the adults claimed their own selection of spring rolls, noodle dishes, and soups. Evie clenched her chopsticks and fluctuated between the urge to get it over with and the hope that no one would ask anything.

“So,” Eddie began. His eyebrows were raised in the same way he had practiced in front of a mirror a million times when they were in high school. Maybe it intimidated juvenile delinquents into confessing to Officer Vivas, but Evie hadn’t been impressed twenty years ago and she certainly wasn’t now. “Central America?”

She had memorized her lines. She could do this. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. The facility I was visiting had excellent security. It was more boring than anything else. One satellite call per day so the guards could check in, otherwise we were in a communications blackout. If I never play cards again – or eat another MRE – it will be too soon.”

“It sounds awful, even if we were imagining far worse.” The guilt spoon digging into Evie’s liver was delivered flawlessly, just as Sarah had learned from generations of Vivas women. Sarah smiled with sympathy so artificial it might have been created in a lab. Her hands however, were trembling with real emotion until she concealed it by grabbing onto a plate.

Evie tried not to think about how bad it had been. How distressed – horrified – her family would be if they knew the truth.

“Strange that it was never on the news.” Eddie studied his noddles intently, and without looking up, chastised his children. “Scarlett, you even think about throwing that chicken and you will sit in a corner until your mother gets back.” Scarlett, all of five, screwed up her face like she was weighing the consequences, and finally shoved food in her mouth instead of launching it at her little brother’s face. Eddie continued, “I could understand why nothing was released during the situation. Even small town cops know how the press can make a bad situation worse. But after the fact? You’ve been back for what, a week? And nothing on tv. Or the internet.”

“Of course,” Sarah picked up as if she and Eddie had rehearsed it. Evie wouldn’t put it past them, but the siblings had always been able to finish each others’ sentences. She scooted closer to Evie on the couch, until their shoulders brushed together. Sarah was strung tight with tension, but trying to make light of her worry by exaggerating it. “You telling us about it – even after all this time – makes us feel so much better. No need to scour CNN and the BBC for mentions of coups, military action, or unidentified female corpses found rotting in a jungle somewhere. It will really free up a lot of my time, let me tell you. And I am sure the nightmares will fade eventually.”

_Cold. Searing electric current. Endless hallways of yellow-painted cinder block. An unwanted touch circling her arm. Mother of HYDRA’s next generation._

Sarah was still talking, picking at her peanut chicken. “-terrified, wondering where you were. If you were safe.” Sarah swallowed hard and for a moment seemed like she might cry or latch on to Evie, but instead rolled her eyes and nudged her cousin in the shoulder. “Bill didn’t mind at all. He’s so understanding about my bloodcurdling screams in the middle of the night, worrying about the situation my _best friend in the world_ has gotten herself into and that I can’t tell _my own husband_ about for fear that the information will somehow get out and further endanger her life. But it’s nothing, really. I read somewhere that adrenaline can be good for you. Riding roller coasters can increase blood flow and raise anti-oxidant levels in the body. So spending a few weeks in a tornado of fear and ignorance about my cousin’s life is probably for the best. Anti-oxidants can reduce the appearance of wrinkles. What do you think? My crow’s feet look better, right?”

Evie didn’t get a chance to respond. Which was good, because her throat felt tight. Shame, guilt, and fear chased one another down her esophagus, multiplying with each revolution and choking her. The sensation of not having enough air was making it worse, and she concentrated on breathing so as not to have a panic attack.

“I think you look loads better, Sar. Scarlett, finish your milk and sit your bottom in that chair or so help me I will spank you right in front of Cousin Evie.” Eddie glared at his children but spoke to Sarah, ignoring the pleas of ‘but Tia’ and ‘Tia Elena’, “Really, Sarah, you don’t look a day over forty.”

Sarah, to her credit, only dumped a more than generous container of red pepper flakes on her brother’s food while she stared down Evie. If Evie had been able to do anything other than keep breathing, she might have cracked a smile.

“I should really put before and after pictures up on my website.” Sarah gestured to her face with her fork. “Do you know how much skin cream I could sell if this sort of elasticity was attributed to my products? Honestly, I should be thanking you. If you didn’t ignore the feelings of your family, I might never have stumbled onto this amazing treatment for aging. Of course, I also now have a compulsion to read up on political climates anywhere you could possibly travel. Other than that, I’m great. How have you been?”

“I hear Wyoming is nice this time of year,” Eddie said quietly, his eyes boring holes into her forehead.

Evie could feel her stomach clenching. How did he know? Who had he told? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t pretend everything was fine. She had thought that was what she needed – what her family needed. It was one thing with Pepper and Tony and Darcy – people who had all been through their own traumatic experiences. They _knew_. The knowledge of what was out there, what could and did happen to people, wouldn’t crush them. Not like it was crushing Evie. Crippling her and keeping her locked in the Tower afraid to go outside or even touch someone. Dependent upon pills and injections to keep her sane. Unable to sleep because if she did she might dream; unable to sleep because her own mind had turned against her. It would crush her family. Crush them with fear for something too big for them to fight back against.

“Enough.” Abuela set her untouched plate down on the low coffee table. “Eddie, Emmanuel is falling asleep in his apple slices. Go. Take him on a walk for nap time. Sarah. Help your cousin. Make sure little Scarlett eats some vegetables.”

“Yes, Tia,” Sarah said, but not without running her free hand down Evie’s back and leaning into her one more time. “ _Te amo, chica_ ,” Sarah whispered. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Good idea, Aunt Elena,” Eddie murmured.

 _Abuela_ waited while Sarah sat down with Scarlett and Eddie washed his son’s hands and face with a wet wipe. The girls were quietly talking about things they could see out the window and Eddie had picked up the blinking toddler to walk him to sleep before _Abuela_ spoke. She kept her voice low so that Sarah wouldn’t overhear.

“Were you hurt?”

Evie met honey brown eyes, heavily lined and thickly edged with mascara. There was nothing there but a fierce love and what she knew from experience could be a vicious protection of family.

“Yes,” she sighed out the answer, and it felt good not to lie. But in the next breath, “But nothing that couldn’t be fixed.” That was only a half-lie, she reasoned with herself. She would be fixed. Eventually. Hopefully. Because she couldn’t live as she was.

 _Abuela_ raised her eyebrows, knowingly, but did not call Evie on her bullshit. “Was it because of these people? The Avengers?”

“No, no. Well... _cómo lo explico_ ,” Evie whispered. She wanted to tell everything. At the same time, she never wanted _Abuela_ to know. Not what had happened to her. Not what she had been asked to do. Never what she might have, would have done if she had been there even one more day. One more injection. One more sleepless night in her cold cell surrounded by voices in her head and outside it. “It was...my research. Their enemies wanted my research.”

“They came for you? Captain America and Iron Man? They managed to stop acting like children long enough to rescue my beautiful girl?”

“Yes. And others,” Evie said softly. “I can’t... _Abuela_ , telling you details would-”

She held up one finely manicured hand. “Details? Of what? I am just a silly old immigrant woman, I don’t understand these sorts of things.”

Evie rolled her eyes. _Abuela_ had used that same act to undercut hot shot real estate agents and businessmen for decades. It occurred to her, even as some of the tension in her chest eased, that _Abuela_ and Pepper would get along famously. Or bring about a new, more fashionable and sensible world order.

 _Abuela_ leaned forward and pulled Evie into a gentle hug of steel. Evie managed not to twitch at the sudden contact. “It will be okay,” she spoke into Evie’s ear, pushing her granddaughter’s face onto her softly perfumed shoulder. “Everything will be okay. _Le rogué a María por ti._ You will call me. _Todos los días, hij_ _a_ _de mi corazón_.”

“Yes, Grandma,” she answered obediently, trying to blink away her tears so they wouldn’t leave wet spots on _Abuela’s_ shirt. It felt so good to be held. Everything in her sagged, relaxed. Evie sighed.

“Not texting,” _Abuela_ insisted, “calling. With your actual voice and leaving a message does not count.”

“ _Abuela_ ,” Evie sighed again, feeling the corners of her mouth trying to turn up, but relief and exhaustion and the hard knot of emotions still pressing against her sternum prevented it.

“Now,” _Abuela_ sat back, patting Evie on the knee. “Tell me about your friends. How is that Darcy woman? She is the one dating the _papi chulo_ I am not supposed to know the name of, yes? Has she hit Tony Stark yet? And Virginia Potts? She still jogs with you sometimes? Did she buy you this lovely scarf? Is this vicuna? Did she get you this perfume as well? It smells like rich white people; it does not suit you. Don’t worry, Sarah has brought you an entire bag of her products. You should use the lip balm right now. You need moisture. And why are you not eating enough? Is the food here terrible? What do New Yorkers know about cooking? Nothing, that is what I think. They are too worried about getting places so quickly – the drivers on the way from the airport were the most horrible people I have ever met, and you know how I feel about estate lawyers, _conejita_. We are leaving tomorrow, Eddie has to get back to work and I have two deals to close. I do not trust that new agent in my office to take care of it.” She snorted, “As if a degree meant he was capable of wiping his own bottom. But I will make you something tonight. Is there a good store near here? We can freeze any extras so you don’t have to...”

 _Abuela_ kept going, talking like she always did as if nothing had happened. As if Evie was the same person she had always been. It was comforting.

And in a small, analytical part of her brain, a cool voice frightened her, wondering if she would ever be that person again.

 

* _Te ama, chica – I love you, girl._

* _cómo lo explico –_ _How do I explain_

 _*_ _Le rogué a María por ti. - I prayed to Mary for you._

_*Todos los días, hija de mi corazón. - Every day, child of my heart._

_* papi chulo - macdaddy_

_* conejita – little bunny_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to biblioworm for the translation assist!


	12. Sentry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky. No matter how much he tells himself to stay away from stubborn punks and headstrong dames who seem determined to push past their own limits, he just can't seem to help himself.

**August 5, 2017**

 

Barnes had chosen his seat carefully. The wall to his back was shared with the lounge. A small common waiting area, with an oblique angle on the elevator bank and a direct line to the stairs. The windows were shaded by a balcony on the floor above which provided cover from the few unlikely sniper positions that could sight-in on Evelyn’s location. He could see two of the three; and the third was such a difficult shot fewer than five snipers living could have made it even in the best conditions. As Barton was on Evelyn’s side and Barnes made a habit of keeping tabs on the other three, long-range assassination was unlikely. No one could enter the small lounge Friday had reserved for the Doc and her family, but Barnes still felt on edge.

He had researched - much to his own disgust - the individuals who showed up in New York so unexpectedly. There had been a time when he could have allowed himself to believe that family would never hurt their own, but that time was long past. He did not want to think about how the others would react if they knew he had planted his own bugs in the Vivas hotel suite and was receiving GPS updates directly to his phone on the location of each family member. He had a good feeling he could guess what Evelyn would say – and it was nothing that made him feel better. Barnes could tell himself he was going overboard as many times as he wanted, it didn’t alleviate the urge to circle through the darkness and eliminate threats with prejudice.

The lunch delivery had been checked by him personally, and then he had made himself scarce while Evelyn, her grandmother, and the others had settled in. Barnes repressed the desire to shift in his seat. It had been less than a half-hour. At least he hadn’t heard any crying. Or screaming. Despite the excellent sound dampening, he would have heard screaming. And Friday would alert him if there was any medical emergency or aggression. He tried to imagine what his own family would have done, if he had come home after Azzano. Would they have fussed and coddled, or praised him for serving his country? Been hesitant and disgusted by what he had been through, what he had done to survive? He didn’t know, couldn’t remember enough about any of them to guess at a reaction. It was a pointless exercise in any case. He hadn’t gone home. And he was nothing to be coddled or praised now.

Soft murmurs drifted from the lounge, then a door clicked shut. Barnes sat at attention, trying to determine who had left the lunch early and why. The steps were slow and shuffling.

_Movement obscures stride and size. Obfuscation tactic. One combatant, no element of stealth._

Quiet humming jolted him out of assessment. Every once in a while, he could make out a word or two, but he did not know the song. It took an abnormally long time for the singer to reach the junction where the lounge hallway met the common area and circulation corridor.

_Ed_ _u_ _ardo Michael Vivas. Male, Hispanic. Thirty-seven years of age. Five feet ten inches. One hundred seventy-nine pounds. Officer, second class, seventeen years of service with local police force. Ankle ho_ _l_ _ster; .380 Mustang XSP. Threat level 2._ As an unthinking addition, he added, _First cousin once removed._

The surprise at knowing that last bit of information made him aware of the other man’s observation of him.

Vivas hadn’t stopped humming, and he was rocking slowly in place, picking up his feet minutely to mimic walking. Draped over his chest and shoulder was a toddler, apparently asleep or close to it. They continued looking each over for several long minutes, with only the distant sounds of office work and the low hum of what seemed to be a lullaby to break the silence.

“You carried her out.”

The low-voiced statement made Barnes clench his fist and narrow his eyes. Steve and Natasha had destroyed the base – and the only survivor was locked up in a SHIELD containment cell that he had been assured was impenetrable. Unless Evelyn had told her cousin – deviating from the cover story Ms. Potts had established, there was no way for him to know that information. Barnes doubted she would have bothered with that detail, assuming she even remembered it. Which was unlikely, given how out of it she had been at the time. He didn’t get a chance to interrogate.

“Game camera caught you,” the policeman continued. “Local law enforcement went up to investigate gunfire and explosions and found the burning shells of a few tactical vehicles and a smoking crater where a building used to be. Then they solicited for information and got the video. Confiscated it. As much big game hunting as goes on out there, you’re lucky you weren’t on more than one.”

Barnes didn’t give anything away – he knew his expression was as blank as he had been trained to be, but the man still nodded as if they were having a conversation.

“Sheriff is a friend of a friend. I heard about the mysterious ‘localized fire’ on the news,” he huffed and raised an eyebrow, “and the next day Evie is suddenly home safe. With her working for Stark? A little too coincidental. I called in a favor. Seems like that tape maybe shouldn’t stay in a rural county evidence database. Might fall into the wrong hands.”

“It will be taken care of.” His rumbling voice made the kid stir, but a few pats on the back soothed the toddler back to sleep.

“Evie doesn’t need any more reasons for anyone to hurt her. And she could use some pampering.”

For a moment, Barnes almost believed Vivas could see inside him. See how his interest in Evelyn wasn’t strictly professional – not just about keeping the Tower guarded and the Avengers protected. Vivas went on without waiting for a response.

“But if you tell her I said that, I will deny it on a stack of Bibles. My cousin would walk into a pit of lava just because I told her she shouldn’t. Her damn Pops...” He shook his head and sighed. “This is what happens when you’re raised by an old man who is scared to death you’ll turn out bad. First sign that someone thinks she can’t handle something herself and she locks up tighter than a drug dealer with a lawyer. Doesn’t matter if it’s moving her furniture or dealing with childhood trauma. Evie’s stubborn as hell and twice as strong.” Vivas nodded again, slowly restarting his shuffling walk. “I’d tell you to keep her safe, but she’d skin me alive if she found out. And it looked to me like you are already on board with that.”

Vivas continued on down the hall, humming and rocking, leaving Barnes clenching the arms of his chair and listening intently for any sounds in the lounge. He did _not_ think about how far he had already gone to make certain that Evelyn Vivas would remain safe.

Or if he wanted her to know about it.

Or how much further he was willing to go.


	13. Exercise in Normalcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The first thing I ever wrote for Unlikely Singularities. It took me a long time to get back here, but there is no story about Bucky without Steve. And no Steve without Tony. And no Tony without Pepper. And I needed Sam to be not-angsty. And Natasha deserves to be there just for being awesome, and at that point I kind of have to pull everyone else into it. And then I have over seven hundred pages of work that *isn't even mine, goddammit* just for this one, tiny, terrible joke. 
> 
> Please let me know if it was worth it, even a little.

**August 7, 2017**

 

Evie imagined she could feel his breath puffing against her shoulder, hot and moist and irritating in the even hotter and more humid air of early August in New York. She couldn’t really feel it, logically, she knew that. But she could hear his trainers hitting the concrete in rhythm with hers. She could feel the slight stir of air as his arms pumped in time to her steady, slow run. If she turned her head just a fraction to her left she would see him just behind and to the side. Eyes straight ahead. Face impassive. Probably not even breaking a sweat. She didn’t need a babysitter. Didn’t want one. She was getting out of the Tower and around other people and following her therapist’s advice. She could take care of herself.

_You couldn’t take care of yourself last time._

Evie grabbed the control on her earbud cord and turned up the volume. Normally, she would have never run with the sound so loud that she couldn’t hear her surroundings. It wasn’t safe. Normally, she didn’t have an enhanced super-soldier, formerly brain-washed assassin turned hero, as a running partner. If she wasn’t safe from muggers, rapists, and oblivious cabbies with James Buchanan Barnes at her back, then she might as well throw herself off of a bridge. Normally, she wouldn’t have needed to drown out the sound of her own damn brain. Nothing was normal.

_Deja que el hombre te mantenga a salvo._

Evie clenched her jaw and picked up the pace. She hadn’t even wanted to run outside. Hadn’t wanted to go outside at all. During their now daily calls, Abuela had been encouraging her to get some fresh air. And the therapy she was undergoing warned that avoidance could lead to agoraphobia. _Dr. Braithewaite wouldn’t know avoidance if it bit her on the ass. I’m going to the goddamn appointments, aren’t I?_ As soon as the psychiatrist found out that Evie was not under any restriction to the building, she had pushed for her to become more social. Logically, Evie understood the healing process – the psychological hurdles she needed to overcome to deal with what she had been through. Childishly she didn’t think there was anything wrong with being extra cautious about the HYDRA threat. And if that meant she could stay in the Tower with music blasting to distract from her own head then that was just a welcome benefit.

But she had been pushed into it. Abuela’s soft advice to find something new, something good to focus on, to ask for help, rang in her ears. She might have been able to ignore her grandmother, if it weren’t for the incomprehensible mixture of over protectiveness and eggshells she was receiving from the other residents of the Tower.

No matter how she needed her early morning time on the treadmill, needed to be alone with the distracting stimulus of music, the City skyline, and muscle strain to overwhelm her brain into submission, there always seemed to be someone in the gym trying to get her to slow down. Natasha running next to her and forcing a conversation. Darcy interrupting - far too early for her to be legitimately in the Tower for work - to talk about her pregnancy. Friday with scheduling conflicts for the gym. And Barnes. She could recall every time she had ever seen the Sergeant before her abduction – the experiences tended to stand out. And he had managed to slide past that number in her first two days out of the infirmary. He never spoke to her, just showed up, scowling, until she got off her treadmill. Or he was stalking the hall outside her office. Or turning down the music the one time she had Friday pump K.Flay over the speaker system. If her body was completely exhausted, her mind distracted and overwhelmed with endorphins, then she could stretch out the time between medicating herself. She could focus on her work instead of thinking about what had happened to bring her to the Tower. But circumstances seemed to be conspiring to exclude her from that blissful state of fatigue, forcing her to remember.

_Percussive force. Ears ringing. Electric shock. Muscles clenching. Blackness. Then-_

Evie shook her head and focused again on her anger. The six-million dollar man was still behind her, following her, watching her. She knew why, she just didn’t know _why._ He was there because she might be taken again. Because Pepper Potts needed her, and Tony Stark needed Pepper. Because she refused the gps device that the billionaire had offered to inject into her arm, allowing only for the thin tracker clipped to her waistband. He was there because Dr. Braithewaite thought she wasn’t dealing with the psychological issues of her abduction, and avoidance tactics might lead her to self-harm. He was there because Helen Cho didn’t feel she could force Evie to accept her opinion that exhaustion was not a prescription. He was there because Darcy Lewis was worried. Darcy who had decided the two women would be friends at their first meeting. Darcy who had no doubt told her fiance, Captain-fucking-America, who had then roped his long-lost-more-recently-defrosted friend into guard duty.

The _why_ was more difficult to determine. The reason she had been abducted in the first place. Some bastardized offshoot of HYDRA and secret society nutjobs who felt the human race needed to be upgraded had found her. _Why._ She was held for weeks, forced to examine biological samples and genetic material, kept on a cocktail of sedatives, stimulants, and experimental enhancement drugs until she could barely tell up from down. _Why._ The fire she had set herself. The fear. The pain. The darkness that was always just out of reach. _Why._ The collapse of the wall and then-

A cabbie leaned on the horn and gestured rudely out his open window, but Evie barely noticed over the cacophony of her own thoughts and the music blaring in her ears. Barnes continued to follow, his step never faltering, as she dashed across the busy street and into Central Park. Rather than relieving the heat on her skin or the sweat sticking her loose pull-over between her shoulder blades, the shade of huge old trees felt stifling. Close. Another jogger passed them by and Evie had a moment of unreality, watching his foot hit the ground. _Average seventy-four inch stride, six point one mile maximum circuit, five thousand two-hundred twenty two point nine steps. At a speed of-_ She stumbled, and Barnes suddenly had his flesh hand under her elbow, barely touching the material of her jacket. She yanked away as quickly as possible, overcompensating and nearly falling a second time.

The movement drew a few curious glances, and Evie became aware of the eyes on her. No doubt wondering about her long pants and collared, sleeved top in ninety-degree heat. Barnes wouldn’t make anyone more comfortable. Although he wore knee-length shorts, he too had long sleeves to conceal his metal arm. His glare didn’t help matters either.

Suddenly, Evie didn’t want to go on. She hated feeling the stares. Hated the burn in her lungs and her legs. The gritty feeling from eyes that hadn’t gotten enough sleep. It was a bitter decision to cut her run short and go back to the Tower; she would have to medicate again to quiet her brain. It only made her want to punch Barnes in the face. It wasn’t his fault. She knew it wasn’t his fault. But it was easier to be angry with him than listen to her head, to hear the voice whispering, _Él podría mostrarte cómo matarlos la próxima vez_. She dropped to a walk and moved on shaky legs to a water fountain. He followed, one hand out to steady her, and Evie recoiled.

“Take a lap,” she muttered, knowing he would hear her. “I need to stretch.” He hesitated, and she sneered, “I promise not to slip the surveillance. I’ll be here when you get back.” She should have felt bad about her tone, and maybe she would. Later. When she wasn’t off balance and feeling exposed.

He didn’t respond, but she watched his back as he passed her and took off. She immediately wished she could call him back. The fear, the possibility that she could be taken again, was easier to push away with him and his metal arm next to her. His pace was considerably faster, nearing a dead sprint. Hatred churned in her gut. No for Barnes, but for herself. For her own stupid tremors and the crawling sensation on her scalp that made her feel like she was exposed. For the voice in her head suggesting she go after him, and the conflicting desire to find a place to hide.

_I should apologize to him._

Evie drank deeply from the fountain and lowered the zip on her shirt discreetly to splash water on her overheated skin. She walked slowly, pausing to stretch out her trembling limbs. She counted her own steps. Named the throbbing nerves in the foot and leg to pull her brain into focus. _Proper plantar digital. Common plantar digital. Medial plantar. Lateral plantar. Tibial-_ The relief would only last for a few minutes, and even that was interrupted by a voice at her side.

“Miss, are you okay?”

Evie jerked upright, fear sliding down her spine with a cold tension that locked her muscles. A man stood only a few feet away, his shirt soaked with sweat and a concerned expression on his face. He had a golden retriever that looked mentally challenged on a leash and a badge in his hand. In another time, before she had met the HYDRA, she would have snorted. _Miss indeed._ The off-duty officer was at least ten years younger than her. Practically a baby. As it was she cared less about his officiousness and more about how to determine if his ID was real. Real or not, nothing good would come of the attention.

“Fine,” she said shortly, turning down her music. Then she tried her best to smile. Smiles were reassuring. A social construct to convey a wide array of emotions including security, normalcy, and thanks. She used to do it more often. “Just needed a break.”

“Are you sure? You seemed to be a little upset back there.” He gestured to the trail, near where Barnes had tried to help her. He must have seen her jerk away from her running partner. _God save me from good Samaritans._

“No problem. Bit off more than I can chew, I guess. I probably should have taken a rest sooner.” She smiled again, but she knew it was even more strained than the last one. It was a six mile run around the Park, and Evie wasn’t sure how long it would take Barnes to get back, but she was hoping it was soon. If she left without him, who knows how much security she would have the next time she wanted outside the Tower. _Assuming I ever want to leave again. Debería haberse pegado más a mi caballero._ She wouldn’t put it past Stark to chip her in her sleep and keep an armed detail on her every move. She wouldn’t blame him for it. Unfortunately, waiting around for the absent Barnes quickly became a worse option.

The officer caught sight of her neck.

Officer Baby’s eyes widened. She was all too aware of what he saw. She could feel the water trailing across the two-inch vee of skin exposed by her carelessly lowered zipper. There was a ridge of angry tissue there, new and dark pink. Bruises, layered in shades that defied description, ringed her pale skin. It had been ten days since the Avengers had found her, freed her. Ten days and her neck still looked like she had been brutally garroted. Evie had to give the young cop credit, he managed to control himself fairly quickly.

“Miss,” his voice switched from concerned to authoritative. Evie might have been impressed if she hadn’t heard authoritative from Captain America. Officer Baby had nothing on _the_ defender of freedom and justice. “Why don’t you have a seat.” He gestured to a nearby bench, and Evie was quite aware that he wasn’t really asking her.

“I better not. I still need to cool down.” She shook out one leg to demonstrate, but his eyes narrowed. He really needed to work on his approach with assumed victims. _Dile que se vaya a la mierda._

He stepped closer, not quite within her personal space, but enough that another six inches would put him in arm’s reach. “Miss, if you are in a situation-”

“My only situation is blisters,” she said flatly. Evie could feel her back tensing, water pricking at the corners of her eyes. Officer Baby wasn’t much taller than her, perhaps an inch or two, but his stance and condescending concern reminded her of someone else. Her breath hitched a bit, and she threw a gaze over her shoulder toward the trail where Barnes would arrive. She wanted him - for the first time since her abduction wanted _someone_ \- pleaded silently that he would arrive so they could leave together and get away from that patronizing assertive expression. She might think Barnes was an asshole for silently following her, but his impassive _go-the-fuck-away_ face would have been welcome at that moment.

“Why don’t I wait here with you?” The cop’s suggestion was laughable, but he stepped even closer, his hand swinging out to point again at the bench. Evie flinched. Hard. The officer noticed, and his face took on a more serious, professional look. That was bad. She didn’t want his pity, his concerned interest. “Miss, if someone is hurting you…” He kept talking, but she didn’t hear the words over the roar of blood in her ears. Her breath was coming too quickly. A laugh bubbled up and she choked on it. He had no idea. No idea what he was talking about, what he was seeing. Officer Baby who wasn’t even old enough to have been out of the academy when HYDRA stepped out of the shadows. _A fresh-faced idiot who_ _thinks_ _\- who th_ _inks_ _-_

Evie stumbled back, nearly losing her balance and he stretched out an arm to her. Her lungs seized up. She couldn’t let him touch her, couldn’t stand the idea, but she didn’t have enough air, not enough energy or movement or anything and sweat was pouring off her but her muscles were cold, locked up and she couldn’t move and -

“Back off.”

In the blink of an eye there was a broad back between her and the officer. Barnes’ fingers were on her wrist, but gone again before she could register the unwanted touch. There was cool metal under her hand. Evie looked down, still struggling for air and trying to comprehend the sudden wall of soldier that stood between her and unreasonable fear. The fingers of her right hand were wrapped around his bionic arm, under the long sleeve of his shirt. A tiny part of her brain realized that he had done that for her, was grateful that he understood she needed to hold on to something, but couldn’t stand to be _held on to_.

“Sir,” Officer Baby was saying in a voice that was not even remotely as daunting as he seemed to think, “I need you to step away from the young lady.” Evie could feel Barnes shifting his weight slightly. She focused on the muscles in his back, tensing under damp cotton. _Latissimus dorsi. Teres Major. Teres min-_

“Evelyn. What do you need?” His voice was low and quiet. Deeper than she realized it would be. It was the most she had ever heard from him.

It took a long moment for her mouth to work, for her to catch enough air to force words out. “I’m good. Here. Thanks.” Evie felt dizzy. Lack of oxygen, exhaustion, and the sudden drop in adrenaline went straight to her brain. She sagged forward, pressing her right arm against Barnes’ lower back and leaning her forehead against his shoulder blade. His skin was burning hot, even through the shirt, and a sharp contrast to the chilly metal of his arm. She tightened her grip, focusing on each ridge and plate against her palm as she tried to breathe deeply.

Barnes’ tone of voice did not change. “My friend needs to return home.”

“That where she got those bruises?”

The sudden stillness in Barnes put Evie on high alert. Not the panicky-wild sensation of fight or flight that she hadn’t quite come down from, but a tension that wasn’t focused on her own well being. Sharp precision ordered her thoughts. She didn’t know Barnes well, or at all, really. But she could guess how a man raised alongside Captain America would react to the not-so-subtle accusation of domestic violence. That would have been bad enough, but Barnes had an all-too intimate understanding of abuse. Evie did not want to see how he would take being likened to his own captors.

“No,” she muttered, then cleared her throat, and repeated herself a little louder. “No. It’s not like that.” She straightened away from Barnes and stepped up beside him, still clinging to the solid presence of his arm. “My friend has not hurt me. The opposite, in fact.” Evie leaned against Barnes, just for a moment to help get her bearings. The officer’s eyes followed the motion to where her grip had pushed Barnes’ sleeve up his forearm, away from the glove concealing his hand. She could tell when he made the connection, his mouth fell open a bit and his gaze snapped to Barnes’ face. She quickly continued, “Your concern is appreciated-”

“But unnecessary,” Barnes finished. His voice was absolutely frigid.

“Yes, of course. Sir - I mean, Sergeant. Ah…” Officer Baby was a little flushed, either from embarrassment, or awe, or both.

“Excuse us.” Evie didn’t bother trying to smile again, but nudged Barnes with her hip. She kept her hand firmly wrapped around his arm, using it to push him back toward the street.

“Yes, um, excuse - just doing my- uh. Have a nice day, Sergeant. Miss.”

They were starting to draw attention, which wasn’t helped by Officer Baby loudly requesting that a few people who had stopped to see what was happening should move along. Someone caught sight of the few inches of metal that Evie had exposed and she knew it was only a matter of time before the cell phones came out. She pushed down his sleeve and picked up her pace, stumbling a bit as she jogged out of the park. Two blocks away she came to an abrupt halt, leaning over her knees and wheezing. Dark spots were swimming on the edge of her vision, and Evie was aware of every ache and pain in her body. Every blister from the punishing runs she had been taking, the lingering tenderness around her neck, and the bone-deep fatigue that had only gotten worse since her escape from HYDRA all came crashing down on her.

Barnes slipped his metal wrist under her fingers, and she held on reflexively. He used her grip to lead her off of the busy sidewalk and away and into the shade of an alley. Cool brick at her back was the last sensation she had before blackness fell over her. Evie wasn’t sure how long she was out, but it couldn’t have been more than a few moments given that no one had noticed two figures sitting in an alley in broad daylight. There was a low drone in her ears, overshadowing the quiet music from her earbuds. She stared at her red trainers, looking small next to Barnes’ much larger gray ones. His metal hand was on the back of her neck under her ponytail. With each small circle he rubbed with his thumb she could feel the minute ridges where the plates overlapped. Distantly, she noted that he must have removed his glove. She felt cooler too, and realized that her jacket was unzipped as far as it would go, exposing her sports bra and the skin over her chest to the air.

Barnes was taking slow, deep breathes, and she found herself unconsciously mirroring him. The buzz in her ears faded, and her vision cleared, growing clearer. She was still too hot, but it was bearable. More than anything, she was just tired.

“Better now?”

Evie nodded, and tipped her head up to lean against the wall. Barnes didn’t move his hand, but it was okay. Whether it was because she had been unconscious when he touched her or because her body didn’t have any more energy to feel fear and panic, she wasn’t sure, but she relaxed into the almost chilly press of his fingers.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t a whisper, but it was close. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, watching her. His dark hair fell against his cheekbone. It was long on the top, but shorter in the back than it had been a few years ago when he had been caught on hundreds of cell phone cameras attacking Captain America. His stubble was thick. Evie knew it couldn’t be much after seven in the morning, and wondered if he always waited to shave until after he worked out. She wondered how quickly a full beard would grow, given that she had never seen him with less than a five o’clock shadow. She wondered if he had ever, given how long he had been on the run and that a beard probably would have helped him hide from HYDRA and SHIELD. She wondered if maybe he would again, then immediately thought it would be too bad to cover up the dimple in his chin.

“...ready.”

Her eyes snapped to meet his, surprised to realize that she had no idea what he had said - too busy contemplating his personal grooming habits. “Uh, I have blisters,” she responded, then winced. It was true, but probably not germane.

“Cab,” was his only reply, and then he was taking a phone out of the pocket on his shorts and typing one handed on the screen. In minutes, a yellow taxi had pulled up to the curb - _de ninguna manera, recuerda el último taxi -_ and Barnes’ hand fell away from her neck as she pushed against the wall to stand. Her vision blurred and her head went hot. One step had her biting down on a cry of pain. Fire shot up her legs as she put weight on them, cramps tightening the muscles in her calves until she nearly crumpled back to the ground. She fell against Barnes, his cool arm bared under a pushed up sleeve and missing glove, ready to support her. He didn’t reach for her, but allowed her to take hold of his hand and lean into his side until her dizziness faded. The difference was slight, but it kept any of her fear from surfacing, allowed her the control she had been holding onto tightly since HYDRA.

She hobbled to the cab, refusing to think about her last ride in one. Barnes did most of the work, and he opened the door for them. Evie began rubbing at her legs while he spoke to the driver. As soon as they pulled away from the curb he held out his right hand to her - making her aware that she was still holding his left.

“May I?”

Evie wasn’t sure what he was offering, and she took a moment to examine herself. There wasn’t any terror, no strangling fear of being overwhelmed - despite the backseat that seemed small and close with his large form nearly touching hers. She wasn’t sure if it was the clenching pain in her legs or that she had finally run out of cortisol and simply couldn’t be afraid any more. Slowly he grasped her ankles, shifting so she leaned against the door and her legs were in his lap. Through the thin cloth of her pants he kneaded the hard knots of tension in her calves. One hand cool and gentle, the other hot and firm. Evie couldn’t help the groan of relief as the pain began to subside. The cabbie was talking. Something about heat waves and hydration, but she closed her eyes and focused only on the pull and pressure of Barnes’ fingers. _Skin to skin contact releases oxytocin and endorphins._ She pushed the thought away. Too soon, they came to a stop and Barnes was passing money to the driver and offering her his hand to help her out. They had arrived at the northeast entrance of the Tower, a valet drive that offered closest proximity to the private elevator which gave access to the upper floors.

The guard at the door nodded at Barnes and looked closely at Evie’s face before unlocking the door and letting them in. Another security staffer was stationed at a desk in front of the elevator. She also gave a perfunctory nod as they passed. Neither said anything about Evie, the most recent addition to the Tower residents, limping along beside the former Winter Soldier.

“Where to?” There was no censure in his tone, no suggestion that she should go see one of the nurses on staff at the SI clinic on the third floor, or in the Avengers Infirmary higher up. Or worse, visit Dr. Braithewaite.

“Friday, eighty-fourth floor, please.”

“Certainly, Dr. Vivas.” Irish and professionally chipper and soothing, the AI was a welcome relief from having to speak to anyone else. The elevator rose smoothly. Silence fell between the two occupants, but it did not feel pressing to Evie. Of all of the people she had been exposed to since her abduction, Barnes was the least likely to feel compelled to fill in with small talk. He simply stood beside her, a half foot of space between them everywhere except where he held out his metal arm for her to lean on.

Her apartment, generously offered by Stark before Evie was taken, and then practically forced on her once she escaped, was a small one-bedroom that faced North. It was a short walk from the elevator to the door, which Friday helpfully unlocked and opened for her as they approached. It was harder than Evie thought it would be to loosen her death grip on Barnes and hobble into her place. She muttered a quick thanks and was about to shut the door when he spoke.

“You know,” he said conversationally, as if they were just two people who had ridden an elevator and not a brain-washed assassin and a traumatized physician, “I don’t remember ever having to literally chase a girl just to be able to walk her home.”

Evie felt her mouth fall open in surprise, but Barnes continued to stand there casually in the hallway, his face as relaxed as she had ever seen it. There was a soft ping from around the corner, announcing that the elevator was letting someone else off on her floor, and Evie was certain that she did not want to face anyone while she was sweaty, injured, and coming down from a panic attack with James Barnes standing at her door. She said the first thing that came to mind.

“Guess you’re rusty.”

The door clicked shut and Evie had filled a glass of water at the sink and reached for her pills before she heard his laughter. Soft, rumbling chuckles were muffled by the door and another voice murmured in the hall as well. _Sam_ _Wilson_ , she guessed, since he was the only other resident on her floor. Whatever he said must have set off Barnes, because the soldier’s quiet laughter erupted into loud whoops and chortles. Evie almost dropped her glass she was so shocked. Gradually, the pair moved away, snickers fading slowly, and Evie limped toward her bathroom. She turned on the shower and stripped out of her sweaty clothes before she glanced in the mirror. Her feet were angry red along the toes and purple where two were fractured. Blisters on outside edges were swelling. Her heels were raw and seeping under band aids. There was a burn on her hip, healed over but still pink and tight, the new skin shinier than the rest of her. Her neck was the worst. Where the cord had bitten into her flesh it was scabbed. She was lucky most of the pressure had been on the muscles, not her esophagus. The raised, uneven line was pale purple and surrounded by mottled bruises. And the healing gouges made by her own fingernails. Her gaze floated up to her face.

Usually, during her daily self-inspection she noted the circles under her eyes. Pale skin. Progress on the nearly invisible bruise across her still tender jaw. Dark blonde hair and darker eyebrows. Instead of a reminder of nightmares, her attention was drawn to her mouth. Her lips were sunburned, but they were also quirked up in a genuine smile.

 

* _Deja que el hombre te mantenga a salvo. -_ _Let the man keep you safe._

_*_ _Él podría mostrarte cómo matarlos la próxima vez. - He could show you how to kill them next time._

* _Debería haberse pegado más a mi caballero. -_ _Should have stuck closer to my knight._

_*Dile que se vaya a la mierda. - Tell him to fuck off._

_*_ _de ninguna manera, recuerda el último taxi –_ _no fucking way, remember your last ride in a taxi_


End file.
